Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes
by Dejah
Summary: Richard B. Riddick stood at the threshold of Hell, refused at the gates of Heaven. Heaven freezes, Hell closes. Riddick stands on the outside. COMPLETE. Chapters 15/15. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

by Dejah Thoris

**Prologue**

It's a harsh life, the life I've lived. But it's been my life from the beginning, no matter the circumstances.

Circumstances. A fucked up reality that can bring you to your knees or make you a god. Maybe I'm some cross of both. Trash brat, convict several times over, escapee, anti-hero. Hero?

Long story short? I did something I didn't really want to do. Something I can be proud of. Who knew I had it in me? I didn't. They didn't. She did. In the end, she really believed.

But back to the circumstances. The truths, the lies. The half-truths. Yeah, they're in there, too.

Maybe I should start from the beginning. Maybe you'd find that interesting. Maybe you wouldn't.

Here's a beginning. I was found in a liquor store trash bin, umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. Probably to kill me. Some back-street abortion, lots of blood on the ground. It started bad, but maybe it won't have to end that way.

A new lease on life from where I sit now. Three survivors from a civilian transport craft. Forty passengers, three crew, and one bad ass. The survivors… Shit, but what would you know the bad ass is one of them? And a kid, suffering from an identity crisis. Holy man, on his way to New Mecca. Did his god see this coming?

Back, before the crash, things were different. Something has shifted drastically since then, something serious, something frightening. Damn, did I just say frightening? What the hell?

Death, I'm used to it. Familiar with it. Friends with it. I'm intimate with death. I've been death. No conscience had stirred in this soul for some fifteen, sixteen years, but once. Maybe longer. Maybe not.

Then death woke up that conscience. Didn't just wake it up, jolted it back to life. Forced a desire to be human to surface and reveal itself because some fool woman had a bad judgment call and came back for my worthless ass.

But the real story starts before that. Before the conscience and the humanity. Before the crash and the sacrifice. Before the waking.

Richard B. Riddick stood at the threshold of Hell, refused at the gates of Heaven. Fuck it. Heaven freezes, Hell closes. I still stand on the outside.


	2. Friara

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes  
By Dejah Thoris  
**Chapter One: Friara**

"Wake up, asshole. This ain't your break."

The boot came flying at Riddick's head. He wasn't asleep. Sleep? Him? That was bullshit. Not now. Not lately. Doze. That was the term.

Riddick jerked out of the way of the would-be weapon and reached out with lightning speed, catching the booted foot and twisting hard. A muffled cry of pain reached his ears and he watched indifferently as the other man fell with a thud, the sickening crunch of bone still raising the hairs on Riddick's arms and on the back of his neck.

"I know it's not my break," Riddick answered simply and stepped back, releasing the oddly twisted foot from his iron grasp. He bent and picked up his bag as the wounded man cursed him violently.

"Shut up," Riddick commanded. "You're alive."

The man looked up at him, his eyes glazed with pain, rage, and fear. "You fuckin' bastard! I'll have your balls for this. You hear me? I'll slice 'em off m'self! 'En y'll learn what your left ball tas-"

Riddick silenced the man with a vicious kick to the head. Blood pooled under his slack face from the gash Riddick's boot had caused and the coppery scent wafted upward, flooding Riddick's nostrils.

"I'll just pick up my pay on my way out," Riddick murmured quietly to the unconscious man as he turned toward the door, his bag slung over his shoulder. Today had seemed like a good day to go.

He headed across the compound to the boss man's quarters and stepped inside the air-conditioned room, noting his surroundings, possible exits. Habit.

A quick search of the desk revealed cred cards for activation and Riddick lifted a blank one from the pile. The activation panel was sitting on the desk, unlocked. A smirk twisted Riddick's lips as he swiped the card, punched in an amount, keyed in a pin code, and then swiped the card again to activate it. Nothing major, like he would have preferred, but enough to last him for some time.

Riddick stuffed the rectangular card into his pants pocket, leaving the office the way he'd come. His co-workers were crowded around the boss and Riddick was able to leave without anyone noticing. The man might be dead, but Riddick didn't give a fuck. Why should he?

Calmarie was a big city on the surface of a no-name planet. What do you call a no-name planet with a big city like Calmarie? The question is the answer and Riddick wasn't even sure where the hell the place was located in relativity to things.

No Company. No Rangers. No Law. Safety, and he might have just blown it. What the hell was he thinking? He could have left without notice, but now they'd be after him.

Riddick shook the self-condemning thoughts aside and headed for the space port three miles away. A quick jump on a passing public transport brought him to his destination with the expected swiftness, and he was using his freshly loaded cred card to buy a ticket out of there within twenty minutes.

"Here you are, sir," the smiling ticket clerk said, handing Riddick the holo-chip that verified his transport.

Nod curtly, turn around, head for the ship. Easy instructions to follow. Light glinted off a piece of metal and Riddick turned, catching a badge and a gun. Cop or merc, he didn't want to stick around and find out.

Riddick stepped to the docking path and handed over his ticket, receiving the stub in return before heading for the ship's small interior.

The trip was only a quick jaunt to the next settled planet. A dusty mining colony. From there he'd go to Friara. Water based planet with a low soil content.

A year's trip to Ursa Luna. A long way from whatever law might be hunting him.

#

Friara. He'd picked it off the chart with only a cursory glance at its stats and bought the ticket. Now he sat rotting in some jail cell in a two-bit town that operated on fossil fuel and used boats for transportation.

"God damn it," he muttered under his breath for the umpteenth time. It was just a good thing he hadn't slipped and gutted one of the locals before they dragged him into the jail cell.

After disembarking from his transport, Riddick had gone to the local hotel via boat. Quiet desk clerk. Pretty. Remarkable hair and skin color. Red on chocolate.

Riddick allowed himself a small grin at the woman and found himself slammed against the wall, some young punk glaring at him.

"She's mine," the man gritted out and Riddick had him on the ground before he could so much as take a breath.

"I don't want her," he answered, holding the razor edge of his shiv to the exposed throat.

Pain exploded in his skull and he fell hard, landing on the first guy painfully, rolling away to see his next opponent.

Three more guys. Shit, Riddick cursed mentally, shifting his grip on the shiv carefully. The first made to stand and Riddick took him out of the equation by kicking the guy in the temple. His eyes rolled up in his head and his mouth went slack. He wouldn't be getting up for a while.

"Oops," he grinned at the other three, brandishing the shiv threateningly.

"He's not dead!" one scoffed, eyeing his fallen friend nervously.

"Okay. C'mere and check," Riddick offered, baring his teeth. His brown eyes whipped over the three men, examining, searching for their weaknesses.

Mindlessly, the man stepped close, unconsciously accepting Riddick's offer to check his fallen friend. A mistake, quickly proven as Riddick slammed a fist into the man's nose and swept him at the knee, dropping him hard.

Attention diverted, Riddick almost missed the potentially fatal blow to the throat and shifted his body just in time, catching the crushing knifehand strike on the edge of his neck instead of full on his windpipe.

Riddick slammed a punishing kick into the man's ribs, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as they gave way beneath his boot.

Then it all went black. He woke up here and found that no one had died, but he was in some trouble. Apparently, attacker number one was the local sheriff's son.

"Smart fuckin' move, Dickey Boy," he whispered to himself as he stared at the bars blocking his escape. There was a way out. He'd gotten out of worse.

A face suddenly appeared in front of the bars and he lifted his gaze to the eyes of his visitor. The girl from the hotel.

"You want a crack at me, too?" Riddick growled menacingly. "For bustin' up your man?"

The girl didn't flinch, and as Riddick examined her closer he realized she was no girl. Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three standard years. Age was hard to judge with cryo-lockers affecting the age of anyone who traveled. He wasn't sure how old he was himself. A big mystery to everyone.

The girl quirked a crooked grin his way and pulled a key ring from somewhere behind her back. She inserted a key into the lock slowly, the metallic sound grating on Riddick's nerves as he awaited the outcome of this little encounter.

The door swung open and the girl slipped the keys behind her again. Riddick guessed they were in her pants waistband, but didn't care. The door was open. The only thing blocking his escape was a slight girl with a mocking smirk.

Something wasn't right. Why the hell was she doing this? He asked her.

A simple shrug was his only reply and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift.

"Big talker?" he questioned, still not moving from his place on the thin metal cot. Still no answer and Riddick felt his anger rising. He should just kill her and go.

"You've gotta want something," he continued and the girl flashed another smirk.

"Big talker," she murmured and stepped away from the door, holding it open invitingly. "You want to go?"

Riddick still didn't move, not trusting the pretty girl with the throaty voice. "What do you want?" he demanded quietly, standing slowly. His fingers flexed, ready to snap the girl's neck should she do something stupid.

"Off Friara," she answered quietly.

Riddick lifted a brow. "Yes?" he prodded slowly.

"You can take me. Or, I can lock this door and leave you here for Brown to decide your fate. Simple, yes?" She continued to hold open the door and Riddick took a slight step forward, watching her.

He could get to her long before she could scream, let alone shut and lock the cell door, but Riddick was in the mood for a game, so he lifted his hands before him non-threateningly. "Off Friara?" he repeated cautiously.

"Yes. I want to leave. But I need the help of an outsider. Will you help me?"

Riddick was aware of her phrasing and her accent. English wasn't her native language. Her appearance was far from the norm, as well. Subtle differences that could be explained away by hair dye and contacts, but Riddick had the distinct impression that what he saw before him was her true appearance.

Her hair was an unnatural shade of red; too vibrant. Green eyes that were too bright. They seemed to shift and change color even as he watched and the hairs on his arms followed suit with the ones on the back of his neck, standing on end.

Her skin was darker than his, her lips red and full. High cutting cheekbones. She let off a scent that was indeed woman, but it was slightly muddled with another scent. A scent that was pleasant but unfamiliar. Warning bells went off in Riddick's head and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you?" he asked, taking another step towards the door.

"We will speak of that later. You will leave with me now, yes? Then I will answer your questions," she answered.

Riddick passed through the door and shut it slowly behind him. The girl locked it tight and walked past him, obviously expecting him to follow without even looking behind her.

The sheriff's department was curiously devoid of occupants and the alarms in Riddick's head doubled in strength and volume. He blocked it out as he followed his rescuer.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into this time?


	3. Rules

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes  
By Dejah Thoris  
**Chapter Two: Rules**

Okay, now what? The only thought running through my mind was "Get the hell outta here." If escape came in a pretty package, who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

I didn't trust the girl. Nothing new. Did I trust anyone? I trusted the dead. I trusted them not to talk. Not to attack. Not to hunt me. Yes, I trusted the dead.

I trusted Carolyn, before she died, in that last moment. What's going on? Am I human already?

#  
Leaving the planet of Friara wasn't as hard as expected, and Riddick followed the girl silently through the darkness as she led him into a stand of strange, faintly luminescent trees.

Riddick hadn't seen vegetation like this before, but that was to be expected, considering he'd never been to Friara.

"Where the hell are you leading me?" Riddick questioned, hating his limited night vision, thinking about the shine jobs he'd seen in slam. Not the expensive grade that you saw on special ops and with minors of pulsate-falade, but the cheap ones. The kind he could get for twenty menthol kools in the pits of Ursa Luna.

"A small transport. Lyca 460 series," came the quiet reply as the darkness of the trees closed around them.

Riddick squinted into the darkness, senses stretched to their limits. "Can you pilot?" he asked. He wasn't going to give away that he could.

The girl froze in her tracks and turned to face him. He thought he could see a frown playing over her shadowed features, but was unsure, the darkness almost completely total. Friara had no moons and the only light came from the tangled foliage of the trees far above their heads. The ground was soggy and Riddick pulled his boots free of the muck, making a sucking sound in the soil, as he waited for her response.

"Some," she replied finally, turning back towards the direction they'd been going in. "Not much," she added over her shoulder, pushing vines out of her way as she passed lithely through the undergrowth.

"Wonderful. How to you propose we leave if you can't pilot through this vegetation?" Riddick questioned, yanking a foot out of the mud.

"Luck," came the muffled answer and Riddick couldn't keep himself from grinning in the dark.

They soon came upon a small clearing, obviously man made. A ship, the make and model matching the description the girl had given, sat in the center of the clearing, carefully void of overgrowth.

Riddick stopped at the edge of the clearing, the ground beneath his feet curiously stable. "If you can pilot, why do you need me?" he demanded.

Once again, the girl stopped in her tracks. She'd been heading for the ship and now turned to him and walked back toward him slowly, her feet making sucking sounds in the soggier patches. A slightly amused smile played on her lips as she stepped so close to him he could feel her body heat radiating from her skin.

"Because, Mr. Riddick, you can pilot well."

A shiver went through Riddick and the warning bells still sounding in his skull began ringing with the intensity of a red alert fire alarm. "How the hell do you know who I am?" he growled, and reaching out with lightning speed he grabbed her upper arms. He yanked her flush against his body and looked down at her menacingly, shaking her hard and causing her head to snap back on her neck.

"I could kill you," he rasped, sliding one hand up her arm, over her shoulder to her throat. His fingers slid around the smooth, warm flesh and he squeezed slightly, limiting her air supply. His fingers almost touched around her neck.

The girl's eyes went wide at the attack and she clawed desperately at his hand, trying to suck in rapid breathes of moist air. Her chest expanded with every desperate breath and her heart fairly raced against his chest. He could feel it beating, feel the blood pulsing through it as he lowered his face to hers.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded in a harsh whisper, his hot breath fanning her face. He inhaled her scent. "What the hell are you?"

"Phaidor-" she rasped, then coughed convulsively and Riddick felt her nails digging into the flesh of his forearm as she desperately tried to remove his hand from her throat.

Blood trickled from the scratches, but Riddick merely increased pressure, cutting off yet more precious oxygen. "Phaidor…" he prodded.

"Phaidor of Lorna," she managed, forcing the words, coughing. "Phaidor of Lorna," she repeated. Her nails were drawing blood, her eyes bulging from lack of oxygen.

Riddick released her suddenly and she toppled to the soggy ground, coughing, rubbing her throat. She lifted terrified green eyes to his stoic brown ones but he only stared at her indifferently. He turned towards the ship and opened the hatch. "Get on the ship, Phaidor of Lorna," he commanded from the loading ramp.

Phaidor still lay on the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She struggled to her feet and stumbled weakly towards the Lyca. Riddick felt her shudder when he grasped her arm and dragged her inside the dark confines of the transport, turning the dial to shut the hatch.

The hatch closed quickly and then Riddick was standing over her again as she began to regain her composure, and her breath.

"Get up," he commanded, once again snagging her arm in a brutal grasp. She'd have bruises soon, he knew. A reminder not to play games with him in the future. He knew his brutality was terrifying to her but didn't care.

Riddick pulled Phaidor towards the front of the transport and shoved her into the copilot's seat as he dropped into the pilot's seat and began running a quick systems check, flicking switches and punching buttons with the skilled, deft motions of a trained pilot. He checked the hull integrity and power cell levels.

Everything was in check and he began powering up the engines, pushing the throttle up slowly as he began take off. The Lyca lifted into the sky with a low roar and Riddick guided it easily through the foliage above. They broke atmosphere and he turned to Phaidor, putting the Lyca on auto-pilot.

"Talk," he commanded in a guttural tone, eyeing the woman slouched in the seat beside him.

"Phaidor of Lorna," she repeated again. Riddick nodded and made a gesture for her to continue, growing impatient with her games.

"Came to Friara to start over. Too much evil for me." Her eyes took on a glazed, far away look as she repeated, "Too much evil."

Some company she picks, Riddick thought wryly, glancing through the view shield then turning back to her. "Continue."

Phaidor shook her head slightly, as if dislodging cobwebs, or memories, not quite meeting his dark eyes. She was gazing just over his left shoulder as she continued to speak.

"I looked different from the other women, and the men wanted me. I did not want them, but they believed they were - the shit? Is that the correct term?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she added, "They only smelled like 'the shit.'"

Riddick felt a smile tug at his reluctant lips, but made no comment.

"I was on Friara for a year, fighting off the law man's son. His advances were not welcome. When I saw you fight the law man's son and his-" she paused here and grinned evilly, "his shits, I knew who you were. I had believed you looked familiar. I am surprised that the law man did not recognize you himself. Your wanted poster is in his office."

Riddick tensed. He hadn't known that. They might recognize him yet, and then send word to others of his location.

"When I saw you, I knew I would finally be able to leave. I'd had the Lyca transported to Friara earlier this year anonymously, during the darkness hours. When you showed up, I knew you were my answer off this place."

"If you know who I am, you must know what I am. What makes you think I won't just ghost you now and save myself the trouble of doin' it later?" Riddick asked, leaning back in the chair. He was conscious of the fact that he had no weapons, but she didn't seem able to fight him off, despite her strange looks. No superhuman strength there.

Phaidor seemed to mull over Riddick's question, her gaze still somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. Riddick leaned over slightly until his brown eyes locked with her green ones.

She blinked and looked down, still not meeting his gaze. "You will not kill me because…" she drifted off, looking confused, then slightly frightened. "I had not planned on this," she stated finally, her voice small.

Riddick shrugged and leaned back in his chair, staring sightlessly through the view shield. "That's what I thought," he replied quietly.

He sat up abruptly and leapt effortlessly to her chair, leaning over her menacingly. "I will kill you," he gritted out through his teeth, suddenly angry. Who the hell was she to use him?

He stood up then, and she stared at him through wide, frightened eyes. "But you'll live until you do something else to piss me off. We clear?"

Phaidor nodded quickly, eyes wide.

"Relax," Riddick commanded, returning to his seat. "Your eyes are gonna freeze that wide if you leave them like that all the time."

"Relax," Phaidor repeated slowly. "Yes, I will do as you say."


	4. Old Story

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Three: Old Story**

Stars filled his limited vision. The almost inaudible whirring of mechanical devices, the soft snore of Phaidor of Lorna. Quiet sounds. Normal sounds.

What sort of place was he headed for now? Riddick questioned his sanity as he risked a glimpse of the beautiful Phaidor, sleeping in the copilot's chair. She'd curled up in it like a child, fighting off the slight chill of the Lyca.

Where were they headed? What route? He had no clue. Drifting aimlessly, searching for a path. No real destination. Hopefully just some no-name city on a no-name planet. Somewhere with no Company, no Law. No Riddick. Still on the outside.

"Mr. Riddick?"

Riddick turned at the small, quiet and questioning voice. "What?"

Phaidor stretched slowly, arching her back. She shoved bright red hair from her face and looked at Riddick as she spoke. "May I eat?"

Riddick didn't respond for a moment, catching something flashing on the radar. He checked their coordinates silently, fixing the auto-pilot to take them to the small planet coming into view.

"Mr. Riddick?"

"What? Right. Sure; eat," Riddick murmured absently as he tried to access information on the planet by establishing an uplink to the planet's government issue satellite.

A quick scan gave him the coordinates for landing and the all clear to dock at 1600 standard time, but the oxygen meter stated he'd feel one lung short on its surface, but they'd be alright.

They? Riddick's thoughts were scattered. _Why don't I kill her? _he demanded of himself, half listening to Phaidor's activities in the back of the Lyca.

Phaidor's sudden presence at Riddick's arm caused him to turn abruptly. He narrowed his eyes at her and she slowly held out some dry rations to him. Riddick's muscles relaxed, and he quickly took the food from her, gesturing for Phaidor to seat herself beside him once more.

They ate in silence, and Riddick noted that Phaidor watched him from beneath lowered lashes, starting slightly with his every move. The tension tore at him and he finally stood up, towering over her, his face tense.

"Listen, Phaidor. If I were going to kill you, you'd be dead by now. Stop jumping like a frightened rabbit every time I move and relax. I usually take someone being so scared of me as a compliment, but right now, it's just wearing thin." His voice was harsher than he'd meant it to be and he let out an exasperated groan when she cowered away from him.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded, leaning down and resting his hands on the arms of her chair.

Phaidor crowded away from Riddick, trying desperately to move away from him. "As a child," she began slowly, practically digging herself into the copilot's seat, "I was beaten. When you are angry, Mr. Riddick, you frighten me."

Riddick stood away from her. "You were beaten as a child?" he questioned, his face twisting into angry lines.

Phaidor nodded emphatically and Riddick growled low in his throat. "Was it your dad?"

Another nod. "Yes. It was my father," she confirmed quietly.

"Fucking bastard," Riddick cursed under his breath, moving away from her and heading towards the back of the Lyca, not bothering to bring his unfinished rations. He moved to the rear of the transport and sat on the hard floor, his back to the cargo door. Head bent, he didn't react to her when she seated herself beside him.

"Why do you curse him?" Phaidor questioned quietly and Riddick lifted dark eyes to hers.

"Children shouldn't be used," he stated simply, his voice harsh and angry. When she remained silent to his reply, Riddick lifted his head to look at her.

She looked pensive and confused and he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Listen, lady, I'm no child abuser. I've done a lot of things in my life, most bad, but I've never hurt a child." He looked at her again pointedly as he added, "I'm sure you know all about the bad things I've done."

"Only what I have read," she answered. "I do not believe you, or any man, could be so evil," she whispered and watched a sardonic smile spread over Riddick's face.

"No? Well, I know that men can be that evil. I know evil. I am evil. But, I would not beat a child. That's above and beyond the call of an asshole like me." Riddick closed his eyes again, leaning back.

He heard Phaidor walk towards the cockpit, but was mildly surprised when she returned. Riddick opened his eyes to see her holding his unfinished rations out to him.

Riddick took them silently and watched a slow half-smile tease her lips. "You are welcome, Mr. Riddick," she murmured then turned back towards the cockpit.

Riddick reached out quickly and snagged her wrist. She froze and turned to him, her face slightly frightened.

"Christ, stop looking at me like that," he commanded. "I just wanted to say that it's Riddick. No mister. Okay?"

Phaidor nodded. "As you say, Riddick."

"And don't be so damn submissive," he tacked on as she returned to her seat.

#

Damn, why didn't I kill her? Hell closes. Maybe that's why. I wasn't getting in, not yet anyway.

From a new vantage point I can see that there must have been a little humanity in me still. Alive, ready to breathe. Broken, but not beaten.

Fan the flame, stroke the beast, tame the demon. A new sort of me. She might have brought me back.

Johns. Fuckin' bastard.

#

New stop. New start. Old story.

Mailliwa was like every other free-settler planet in the universe. Dusty, short on oxygen, and bright with happy prospectors. They went about their business, oblivious to the evil within their midst, hidden behind the disguise of anonymity.

Riddick was feeling dried out and dusty. He towed Phaidor by the elbow down the street and she struggled to keep up with his long-legged stride.

"Where are we going?" Phaidor questioned as Riddick elbowed a group of people from his path, pulling her with him.

"Supplies," he answered shortly, ignoring protests and curses from the pedestrians in his way.

Riddick's immense size usually dissuaded people from messing with him. Six-foot-four, powerfully built, and obviously full of bad attitude, they seemed to part like the waters of the Red Sea before Moses when they saw him coming. It made Riddick's work of shoving people around easier when they moved voluntarily.

He dragged Phaidor into the dimly lit interior of some clapboard general store, its one occupant a balding and bored looking old man behind the counter. Spectacles decorated the worn, leathery face and shaggy white hair sprouted from his wrinkled head, curling around droopy ears and a hunched neck. _Stereotypical general store keeper_, Riddick thought as he headed for the man, still clasping Phaidor's arm in his hand. She kept up with his much longer strides by half-running and half-walking.

When they finally came to a halt at the counter of the store, Riddick released his death grip on Phaidor's arm and she rubbed the abused flesh with her other hand, keeping one eye on him while examining her surroundings.

Riddick placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward slightly towards the old man. "Do you have star charts?" he queried of the man.

The old man didn't answer. Instead, he raised his worn newspaper up high so it blocked his wizened face from Riddick's view, pointedly ignoring Riddick's question.

Face tensing with suppressed anger, Riddick reached out and plucked the newspaper from the man's hands. While the now-angry store keeper watched, Riddick crunched the paper in his hand until it was reduced to an unrecognizable ball. Then, without looking, he tossed the wad into a trash can behind him.

"Do you have star charts?" Riddick questioned again, enunciating each word slowly and carefully to avoid any further confusion.

The old man held Riddick's gaze for a moment longer before looking away. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get touchy," the man grumbled sourly as he slid from his seat to dig through a box hidden beneath the counter.

He surfaced holding a stack of small circular cases, each labeled with a number. "This is everything I've got. Do you want it?" the old man questioned, his hand laying over the stack of discs protectively.

"How much?" Riddick questioned.

Phaidor caught the cursory glance he threw her, checking her position in the store before returning his full attention to the store clerk.

"How 'bout… two hundred creds?"

Riddick checked his pants pocket and came up with his cred card. The old timer ran it through his machine quickly and then handed it back, being careful not to let his skin touch Riddick's fingers in the process. "Hand over the charts. I'm gonna go check them at my ship. If they don't work right, I'll be back for you, old man."

The old man shoved the discs over the counter to Riddick with a withering glare.

"I'll be back," Riddick repeated, then grabbed Phaidor's arm and propelled her from the shop.

"Where do you wish to go, Riddick?" Phaidor questioned as she was roughly pulled through the crowd.

She caught an indifferent shrug from Riddick as he shoved a towering man from his way and pressed through, disregarding threats. "How 'bout…" he paused in the middle of the street and turned slowly. "How 'bout that way?" he said, pointing towards the setting sun.

"'That way'?" she repeated questioningly.

"Yeah, that way. This place is too damn dusty." He seemed to stare at the sun for a minute, savoring its warmth, then he tightened his grip on her arm slightly and headed towards the Lyca again.

"You are hurting my arm," Phaidor complained as they neared the Lyca's landing pad.

"Sorry," Riddick mumbled, loosening his grip on her arm, but continuing to drag her along behind him.

The chart discs yielded precious maps and Riddick grunted his approval as he rapidly pulled up a shipping route and set their coordinates before shutting off the Lyca's charting system and making for the hatch at the back of the ship, opening it to the odd orange glow of sunset.

"C'mon. The crowd's dissipated and we still need more rations for our trip. Next planet's ice. We need to prepare."

"Yes, yes," Phaidor murmured, seeming reluctant to yield her arm to Riddick's brand of leadership.

Riddick stepped off into the dusky twilight, waiting for Phaidor to follow. She came out after him and he shut the hatch, then he headed off for the general store again, leaving Phaidor to follow.

He was some ways down the street when she realized he wasn't going to drag her again, and she raced off after him, catching him quickly.

"Ice, he says," Phaidor mumbled sotto voce. Riddick heard her and smirked.


	5. Retsuje

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Four: Retsuje**

Everything is an odd circle of circumstances. I've mentioned circumstances before, haven't I? Sometimes I still think I'm crazy. Maybe I am. Was I before? If I was, can you stop being crazy?

Insanity and circumstances. In my life those two things have been like death and taxes are to most people. Normal people. Sane people? No, they can't possibly be sane. Who would want to just sit through life, living the "United Dream?" I know what that is. To work for a boring company, earning minimum wage for all of eternity, while livin' in a duplex, sharing a yard with the neighbors that stare at the same wall you do, all day, only from the other side.

Sanity. What a joke. There is no sanity in this world. I know that now. But there is humanity. Took me my whole life to learn that. Took pain to take it from me. Took death to wake it in me.

The kid still asks me stupid questions. The Holy Man is blessedly silent. Circumstances put them in my care. The care of a killer, a sinner, a poor excuse for a savior. White devil?

Circumstances had the law on my ass, though. Blue Eyed Devil. He stole another piece of humanity when he captured me. I had to see him dead before I got it back.

#

Cold. Riddick's eyes flew open at the sudden temperature drop and he wrapped his arms over his chest, rubbing his bare skin to warm the cooling flesh.

Phaidor lay on a bench in the back of the Lyca, her eyes closed as she slept. Sleep. So hard to come by while haunted by life's never-ceasing nightmare.

Tormenting memories of days passed. Premonitions of days to come. Life's twisted cycle of crime and punishment.

Riddick stood and approached the sleeping Phaidor. His semi-willing captive. Had she any idea who's care she'd put herself in? Did he?

Yellowing, finger shaped bruises decorated the flesh of her upper arms and either side of her neck. No. She had no idea. She'd read the brochure's wrong.

Riddick knew who and what he was. Convict. Killer. Monster. Night crawler. Running from the law, the Company, the demons. Who's? His own. Always chasing him. Wherever you go, there you are. The old saying followed him like the nightmares that plagued his waking dreams and gave him night terrors. Half asleep, dozing, they came to him in the shadows, screaming his name, cursing his blood.

Riddick brushed away the creeping shadows of his past and his yet undetermined future and frowned down at Phaidor, her tender flesh bruised by his rough hands. An unexpected pang of regret fluttered through his conscience and he growled low in his throat, turning away from the sleeping woman to return to the pilot's seat.

As Riddick settled into the pilot's chair he heard Phaidor stir, waking slowly. Reluctantly. He didn't blame her, but the chill was probably to blame.

Several minutes of rapidly depleting heat later, Phaidor gave a sigh of frustration and stood to walk over to the co-pilot's chair where she plopped down next to him.

"Sleep well?" he questioned, his eyes set straight ahead. Phaidor eyed him critically then began rubbing her arms furiously and nodded, teeth starting to chatter. "Yes, Riddick. Right up until the freezing cold part," she bit out, and he was almost started by the lack of her usual manners.

Riddick turned to her and flashed a grin. "That's better," he commented then turned his attention to the star chart hovering over the console between their chairs.

"What is?"

"You didn't say something in the way of, 'Oh, yes. Wonderful sleep, Mr. Riddick.' I'm getting sick of listening to you treat me like I'm your master."

Phaidor frowned. "I had the impression that I was your prisoner."

"Why would you think that? Prisoners are nothin' but trouble, Phaidor. Look at me. What have I been for you?"

"You are not a prisoner, Riddick. And you did get me off Friara, as I wished," Phaidor protested, her eyes searching his face.

"No. I'm not a prisoner, at least not now. But they're after me by now. Probably got their best guy on it, too." He gave her another smile. "But don't worry. I'll be droppin' you somewhere soon and we can go our separate ways."

"Thank you," Phaidor murmured, proper once more. "And the temperature?" she asked quietly, almost afraid to test this tender balance they seem to have reached.

"This heap is sucking out the last of the power in the cells. It's kicked into survival mode and cut the heating to 'acceptable'. This is nothing, though. The planet, Retsuje, is a frozen wasteland. It's a good thing we got those supplies. Without proper gear you could freeze ten feet from your ship and no one would be the wiser."

"Lovely," Phaidor mumbled, her teeth resuming their previous chattering state.

"Blankets in the second compartment, remember?" Riddick stated and caught Phaidor's grateful smile as she ducked into the back and opened the compartment.

She returned wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, handing him another.

Riddick took the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Thanks," he mumbled absently, reaching upward to flick a few switches and knocking the blanket off his shoulders.

He was subconsciously aware of Phaidor watching him work over the controls before she turned to the view shield to see a great, ice blue planet rise over the horizon, breaking the ominous blackness of space. She gasped in wonder but Riddick only grumbled a curse under his breath.

"Hm? What was that?" she asked absently, staring wide eyed at the ice planet of Retsuje.

"I said, 'I hate this planet.'" he repeated, this time louder and clearer.

"Why, it's beautiful!" Phaidor exclaimed, her chill seemingly forgotten in the wonder of the sight she was beholding.

"Yeah. Sure. It's great. Right until you have to land on it. Walk on it. Breathe on it. Live on it. Just wait, lady. You won't think it's so damn beautiful when we touch down in three hours."

#

Riddick, clothed in the best cold weather gear he'd been able to find at the little general store, stepped out of the Lyca onto Retsuje's frozen surface with a visible shudder.

Phaidor followed, slowly, her face twisted in chagrin as she realized Riddick had indeed been correct. Lovely from space, wrapped warm and safe in a blanket. The most nastiest of nasty places when you were walking and breathing on its desolate blue surface.

She tested the placement of each foot carefully, striking the spikes strapped to the soles of her books into the ice with each crunching step.

Retsuje was a mining planet, like so many others. Its six massive settlements, buried deep underground, were constantly manned by huge work-forces. The settlements were located vast distances from each other, but Riddick had heard that you could travel between them underground through the vast network of tunnels. What names did these settlements have? Settlement One, Settlement Two, Settlement Three, et cetera. This settlement was named as the others, being number four on the short list of six.

Below the thick crust of ice was a surplus of pulsate-falade. Pulsate-falade is a soft metal, much like Earth's own gold, or platinum, but much more rare and expensive. Silvery in color, it has a strange iridescence that allows it to even glow in the dark. Riddick knew that military special forces used the metal for their advanced shine jobs. Pulsate-falade in its liquid form was used to tint tiny lenses, which were then, in turn, sprayed with a reversed mirrored coating to halt the shine from being visible in the dark. The light produced by the glass-thin lenses allowed the shined person to see in the dark.

The shine jobs you got in slam didn't have the second coat, and in fact were rarely coated with pure pulsate-falade as they were supposed to be. Instead they used pulsatium, a sub-grade of pulsate-falade. When used for a shine it gave the bearer's eyes a feral glow in the dark. If you got lucky enough to get the expensive shit in the slam, it was because some poor schmuck had gone in with the lenses and was never seen again. Harvesting body modification products from the dead, and the living, was a profitable venture in the grim underbelly of the supposed justice system.

Like all the other settlements, S4 was buried deep within the ground to conserve heat and fuel.

Riddick caught Phaidor up in his arms when she lost her footing on the icy ground, sliding past him despite her spiked boots.

"You okay?" he questioned, scarcely recognizing the words as they came out of his mouth.

Phaidor nodded and Riddick eased her away, leaving a hand on her arm to steady her before once again pulling her along behind him, steadying her when she slid.

"Almost there," he rumbled as they approached a short building. Its domed roof reached just above Riddick's head and a short, broad stairwell descended into the frozen earth.

Phaidor's teeth were chattering and she answered with a nod as Riddick pulled her after him into the stairwell. When he reached the bottom he pressed a palm-sized red button set next to the door and it began to slowly open, revealing an anti-chamber the same width as the door. They stepped inside, but before the door could close automatically, Riddick pounded another button and the doors began to close. Once shut, the second set of doors began to slide open.

"Ooh..." Phaidor sighed as they stepped into a heated interior corridor.

Riddick let her savor the moment before grabbing her hand and dragging her down the broad corridor to another doorway. Beyond the doorway was an elevator and he stepped inside, pulling Phaidor with him.

Once inside, Riddick released Phaidor's hand and she sank against the wall, eyes closed as color began to return to her lips and cheeks.

"Better?" he questioned shortly and Phaidor peeked at him as she nodded her agreement, rubbing her gloved hands together.

Riddick peeled off his own gloves and hat, followed by his jacket. He stood wearing the tight, long sleeved shirt and insulated pants with the heavy snow boots. He was aware of Phaidor's appraising gaze sliding slowly up his body as she eyed him from beneath her lowered lashes. So aware it was almost a caress.

"Like what you see?"

Phaidor jumped slightly, snapped out of her reverie as Riddick's mocking voice broke the almost silent whirring of the elevator.

"I- uh. What I mean is..." Phaidor stumbled over her words, a pretty blush darkening her cheeks.

Riddick chuckled and shook his head. "Forget it, sweetheart. The elevator ride is a long one and we've been locked up in that tin can together for a long time."

Phaidor nodded and looked away, staring blankly at the wall. The elevator was warm and Riddick watched as she stood and removed her hat, gloves, and coat just as he had done, then stood taking in deep breaths, eyes closed.

The removal of clothing, while not meant to be erotic, drew Riddick's attention none the less. It had been impossible not to notice that Phaidor was almost unbelievably beautiful. And her scent, like every good smell he'd ever come across. Deciding to see if her secretive appraisal might lead to more, he moved directly into her space. Her eyes flashed open and fixed onto him, meeting him directly for one of the few times she could remember.

"Phaidor of Lorna," he whispered and noticed that she swallowed hard, that her breasts were brushing against his chest, that her gem-like eyes were locked to his.

"Y-yes?" she stuttered.

"I'm a very, very dangerous man," Riddick whispered, backing her against the elevator wall. The gauge above the door indicated they still had a long elevator ride ahead of them before they arrived on the ground floor.

"But," he continued, purposely lowering his voice to a seductive growl, "I'm going to kiss you."

She lifted her hands slightly, fingers curled into fists and Riddick wondered if she meant to shove him away. He paused, his mouth hovering mere millimeters above hers. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, but she didn't touch him. Didn't shove him away.

"Phaidor."


	6. The Waking

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes  
By Dejah Thoris  
**Chapter Five: The Waking**

Perspective. It is vastly important. As a fugitive you realize this in a way you could not understand before. Everything must be put into perspective, then viewed in retrospect. That way, when things go to shit, you can tell yourself, "Yeah, it could have been worse."

Death. Despair. Hunger. Thirst. Sleep. Desire. All must be confined and understood. When you run, when you want to escape from your fate, you place everything in retrospect. Each minute must be calculated and examined. Each breath of freedom, however false, must be cherished as your last. It could be.

A good way to look at it? "In retrospect, things can't get much worse."

"In retrospect, this isn't so bad."

"In retrospect... in retrospect... in retrospect..."

Yeah, whatever. Same with perspective. If you put things into perspective you can figure that it could be worse later. In retrospect, you can remember it could have gotten worse before. Sometimes it does anyway.

So easily, you could lose everything valuable and human. And not just your possessions. Those are the least of your worries when you feel imprisonment lumbering ever closer. It closes in on you like contracting walls of spikes. Death so eminent you can taste its coppery flush in your mouth.

You don't have to die to be dead. Vampires, in the conventional sense, don't exist. There is no "living dead" that stalk the universe, but there might as well be. I know. I am- correction, was one of those living dead. Stalking aimlessly through life with the taste of a predator for a victim's blood; spilled like red satin over my fingers, thick like syrup on my tongue.

It's a metallic taste, human blood. Copperish. There are ways to fix that. A personal favorite, before the waking, was peppermint schnapps. I don't recommend it.

#

The moment seemed to stretch to eternity as Riddick searched Phaidor's expression for signs of fear or disgust. When he still didn't kiss her, Phaidor opened her eyes and stared at him quizzically.

"You were going to kiss me..." She trailed off uncertainly.

"Mhmm," he agreed.

"You haven't."

"I'm just... enjoying the fact that you aren't running away, screaming."

Confusion marred her exotic features. "Running away screaming?" she repeated slowly.

He felt the customary cynicism twist his lips into the parody of a smile. "Richard B. Riddick. Escaped convict. Murderer." Her expression remained confused. "I'm the big scary bad guy, Phaidor. People that know who I am run away screaming all the time."

Phaidor nodded as if she finally understood his meaning. Then, very deliberately, she reached up one hand to rest at the back of his neck and the other to cup his cheek. "I'm not running, Riddick," she whispered, her emerald eyes locked with his brown ones. "Not from you."

Riddick stared at Phaidor for the space of a heartbeat. She wasn't running and neither was he. She should be, he thought absently as he once again began to lower his head. I should be, too, he added as his lips finally whispered across hers.

I should be running very, very fast.

The only thing running seemed to be sane thought, because the moment Riddick's lips touched Phaidor's, everything was right. Everything was as it should be. He was just a man and she was just a woman.

He kept the pressure of his lips soft at first, his mouth sliding gently across hers. A tiny moan escaped her lips and Riddick breathed her in, tasting her, and he wanted more. Tangling his hands in her thick hair, he pulled her mouth more firmly against his own. Phaidor wrapped her arms around his neck, and when Riddick's tongue slid across her lips, she gasped.

Riddick took advantage of Phaidor's open mouth and deepened the kiss, his tongue inviting hers to duel with his own. He could feel his heart thudding hard against his chest, pumping blood to the rapidly hardening part of his anatomy that was pressed so enticingly against her.

Peace was a hard found commodity, though, and their blissful forgetfulness was abruptly interrupted as the elevator signaled it was getting ready to stop.

Riddick threaded his fingers through Phaidor's hair one last time while tracing her mouth with his tongue.

"Mmm," she purred as her tongue flickered out to tease his once more.

"Mhmm," he answered, nipping her bottom lip before forcing himself away from her with a groan.

Her hair was disheveled, and Riddick knew his would be if he had enough of it, considering the way Phaidor had been running her hands over the short stubble covering his scalp. He rubbed it himself a few times as Phaidor collected her extra clothing from the floor of the elevator.

When he bent to pick up his own things, he caught sight of a slightly wicked grin flickering over Phaidor's well-kissed mouth as she watched him, arms full of cold weather gear, leaning against the elevator wall.

He ignored her while he picked up the rest of his things, then stood to lean against the wall across from her. She was still grinning.

"What?" he asked. "Do I have something on my shirt?" He checked his chest. Except for having come untucked, his shirt looked fine.

"No."

Riddick's eyes narrowed as he contemplated Phaidor from across the elevator. "Speak, woman," he ordered and she chuckled.

"I was just thinking, you are actually quite cute."

He bristled. "The hell you say."

"Oh, I do say. I am sure even the infamous Richard B. Riddick can take a compliment from a woman."

Riddick glowered at her ominously. "Compliments are one thing, but I am not 'cute'."

She raised an auburn brow. "Sweet?" she offered.

He continued to glower. Riddick dropped his gear and stalked across the elevator. Stalking in that small of a space wasn't easy, but Riddick managed it beautifully.

She dropped her own gear and tried to melt into the wall as he stepped up to her.

"Sweet?" he repeated, his voice course as the roughest sandpaper. "You want 'sweet'?" he questioned.

Phaidor didn't respond, her eyes going wide.

Riddick could feel the heat radiating from Phaidor's dark flesh as he pressed her against the wall with his weight. "This is sweet," he muttered as he tangled his fist in her hair and drew her mouth to his with a mind numbing ferocity, parting her lips with his tongue, his groan a feral growl. He rocked his hips against her in time with the thrusts of his tongue, bringing to both their minds an act much more intimate.

She reacted immediately, pressing herself hard against him, unable to do anything but submit to the power of his kiss. His hands slid to her buttocks, pulling her hips flush with his own, knowing she could feel the steel of his erection even through their padded cold-weather pants. She arched against him, tilting her hips so he was pressed against her so tightly he could feel her heat.

There was a little click as the elevator slowed to a soft stop, and Riddick pulled away from Phaidor just as the doors slid open, exposing what could have passed for a floor in any business skyscraper on any planet. Wooden doors, real or synthetic it was impossible to tell, lined the broad hallway at irregular intervals, indicating rooms of different sizes.

"That's sweet," Riddick murmured softly as he thrust Phaidor's cold weather gear into her limp arms and grabbed his own belongings off the floor before dragging her out of the elevator to the third door on the left side of the hallway without even bothering to read the lettering proclaiming it as the employment department.

"You seem to know where you are going, Riddick," Phaidor said as Riddick halted in front of the door and turned to look at her.

He nodded. "Yeah. I've been to another one of these settlements before. S-2. They're all built exactly alike. C'mon. We gotta scrape some cash together so we can buy a new ship. That Lyca isn't going to last another long jump."

Phaidor conceded to being pulled through the door like a sack of potatoes while Riddick struggled to ignore the scent of her arousal so he could concentrate. She made a little gasping sound as he deliberately let his knuckles brush against her breast and he turned to her and flashed a wicked grin before approaching a low set, white counter across the small room they'd just entered.

"We should be able to get hired on here without a problem," he told her but she didn't seem to hear him, her gaze fixed on his mouth. He grinned again and she finally seemed to focus on his face.

"I am sorry. I seem to have spaced out there for a moment."

Riddick laughed quietly. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

A bell sat on the counter and Riddick smacked it with the palm of his hand, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. A middle-aged man, dressed in canvas pants and a long sleeved t-shirt, came to the counter from behind a closed door and smiled at Riddick and Phaidor.

"Can I help you?" he questioned, his voice polite and friendly.

Riddick leaned slightly over the counter and nodded.

"Yeah, we're lookin' for work. Something for the lady, too, if you've got it." Riddick shot Phaidor a warning glance that said "don't talk" better than words and was pleased that she didn't argue.

"Where you from, stranger?" the man questioned, his voice still friendly, but Riddick caught the underlying current of danger in the man's voice.

"We're just traveling. I worked on S2 for about a six month stint, three, maybe four years ago. I'm familiar with the work and know that the money's good."

The man looked him up and down. "And her?" he asked, indicating Phaidor with a nod.

"She's never been here, but she's capable."

The man looked them both over carefully. Then, seemingly finding their appearance to his satisfaction, he nodded decisively. "Your names?"

"I'm Mike Walker and this is Lorna Asimov," Riddick answered smoothly, reaching out to shake hands. The other man's grip was steady, his palms callused. "I think you'll find me in the system."

The man pressed a few keys embedded in the counter top and a holographic display shimmered into view. He tapped more keys and Riddick was able to read his own profile, backwards, from the display. It even included a picture from his previous time on the planet.

"Here you are." The man scrolled through the content quickly until he found the employment notes at the bottom. "Ah, yeah, says right here you're highly recommended for re-hire. All your information still up-to-date?"

Riddick nodded in the affirmative. "I've actually lived most this time off the cash I made her last time. Frugally, of course, but comfortably enough. The hours and the work are worth the pay."

"Good enough for me, and I'm sure we can find something for you, Ms. Asimov," the man replied genially.

Phaidor smiled naturally at the man.

"Well, I'm Rob Thompson. I'm basically the foreman here at S4, so you'll be getting your orders from me, usually.

"Follow me and we'll get you two to housing so you can get settled before you're required to work a shift. You might want to put your gear back on. Some of these corridors aren't fully heated."

Thompson left them for a moment, disappearing through a door in the wall behind him. He returned clad much as they were after having replaced their gear, fortified against the cold.

"Let's go," he said and led them through the door and back the way they'd come. Instead of going to the elevator, he went to the first door on their left and opened it up, exposing a short hall. At the end was another elevator, smaller than the one they'd taken from the surface.

They rode upwards for about three minutes before coming to a shuddering halt. The doors of the elevator opened to reveal a raw tunnel carved into the permafrost of the planet's crust. The walls and ceiling were covered in a thick layer of ice, but the floor was cleared. It looked like small heating vents were embedded in the floor to keep it thawed and Riddick wondered how far the warm air had to travel before it reached its destination.

"Lovely," Phaidor murmured as she tried to keep pace with Riddick's long strides.

They got on another elevator, going down, and landed in another short hallway, finished off by a door.

"Almost there, folks," Rob proclaimed.

The door at the end of the hall led into a small room that resembled an upscale hotel lobby. Comfortable furnishings in "conversation" groups were clustered here and there, abstract paintings on the walls. There was even a crackling fire in a marble fireplace, adding old-world charm to the large room.

They approached a richly polished wooden counter and Rob slapped an old-fashioned bell that rang loudly in the silence. A young woman approached the counter from behind a partition and smiled at him.

"Hey, Rob. What's up?" she questioned, eyeing Riddick.

"We've got some fresh meat and they need a place. Get them into a set of rooms so they can get some sleep. I'll be taking them out on the next far-side shift."

"Far-side shift?" Phaidor whispered to Riddick.

He leaned down, his lips almost brushing her ear. "There's two fourteen hour shifts. Far-side will be whenever our side of the planet is away from the sun. Not that it really matters down here. You only know if the sun is up or not by which shift you work."

Any further questions from Phaidor were interrupted as the girl opened a drawer in the counter. "Sure, just let me program a couple keys for them." She pulled out a couple of thin plastic rectangles the size of currency cards and slid them through a keypad device before punching in a short series of numbers. Then she slid the cards through once more and handed one to each of them. "Okay, just follow me."

Rob bid them farewell and told them to meet him at the work office a little before the next far-side shift. A near-side shift was just ending, so they'd have two full shifts to get settled in before they were due to meet him.

They followed the girl through a number of well appointed hallways punctuated by sturdy metal doors, finally stopping in front of one with the numbers 1111 marking their unit. "Here ya go. If you have any questions you can use the comm unit in your rooms to contact whoever is at the front desk. They'll help you out any way they can."

Riddick nodded his thanks and smiled slightly before turning to the door. He swiped his card through the little terminal located beside the portal and it emitted a faint buzzing noise followed by a click. He then pushed the door open and stepped inside, Phaidor close at his heals.

He left her in the main room and came back a moment later to find her stripping off her extra layers.

"Phaidor."

"Yes, Riddick?" she answered, turning to face him as he came from the hallway branching off to the left.

"There's only one bedroom. And only one bed."


	7. Phaidor's Tale

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Six: Phaidor's Tale**

I still think of what she gave up for me. Her life stolen away. Needless and in vain. Given for a killer. I might not be what they paint me as, but I'm no saint.

A street thug turned professional killer. The nightmares are still a plague, haunting, intense. Chipping away at my hard earned sanity. I struggle through each night with the screams of so many echoing painfully in my head.

Sweat beading. Tears welling. It's a never-ending cycle that tears at me from within, bringing back that moment when her life was ripped from my fingers; pulled from my hands. To watch someone die for you. To make the ultimate sacrifice for you. I wasn't worth it. Ever. Not for me.

It should never be for me, but it always ends up that way. God's cruel trick, maybe. I took so many lives, so now it is my fate to have the lives I cherish taken from me.

How many senseless deaths before it ends? I ask that one bitter question over and over of myself. It's become a sinister mantra, pounding a painful, repetitive beat into my mind and soul.

Sigma 3 took a kid and made him a man. A bad one. The worst kind. In an environment of killers, thieves, rapists, the worst of the worst, I became a man. But there was more to the surplus population than the worst of the worst. There was the best of the best. And the normal guys, with normal families and normal kids waiting for them in some distant location.

Slaving away in the desert heat under the tyrannical glare of the Company's worst, I helped beat the drum that drove them to work in the confining and dangerous mines.

Standing by and watching the deaths of many, now I am to be punished in the same way. For the first time, it's my heart crying.

#

Stunned. Good word for the expression decorating Phaidor's face as Riddick's news was driven home.

Riddick smirked and shook his head slowly, laughing quietly under his breath. He approached her slowly, deliberate, rasping the palm of his hand over his scalp slowly. Riddick wasn't entertaining gentlemanly thoughts of sleeping alone. He wanted Phaidor. He hadn't made a secret of that. Judging from the way she'd reacted on the elevator to his kiss, she wanted him just as badly.

Her green eyes were slightly narrowed, jaw clenched tightly. She looked like she was expecting an all out assault. He didn't want to disappoint her.

A noticeable shiver coursed through her as he stepped into her space, tilting his head slightly to the left, studying her. He slid a rough fingertip along the firm line of her jaw, the callused pad rasping along her smooth flesh. She swallowed hard, sucking a trembling breath between her lips and he dipped his head, inhaling her scent, touching her with just the one finger now trailing down her arm.

"Uh, Riddick..." Phaidor's words drifted away, unheard, as Riddick leaned close, shifting nearer so his chest was against her breasts.

"What are you doing, Riddick?" Phaidor questioned quietly. He could hear her heart pounding like a drum. Its tempo matched his own.

He lifted his rough hand to her throat, tracing a random pattern on her flesh before sliding his fingers around to cup the side of her neck, his thumb moving slowly back and forth across her fluttering pulse.

"You're a bright lady, Phaidor. Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?"

A quick sequence of unidentifiable emotions rushed over her still features before she locked a strangely cold gaze on his. The deep fjord green of her eyes had all the heat of Retsuje's freezing surface, and Riddick felt a strange numbness grasp his heart and squeeze. His thumb stilled.

Keeping her eyes locked with his, Phaidor reached up and wrapped her fingers around Riddick's hand where it rested on her throat. She pulled it away from her skin and then released it, and he let it drop to his side.

"I will take the couch," she murmured, her voice a soft burr of sound as she took first one, then two steps back from him.

He watched her turn slowly on her booted heal and head down the hall toward the bedroom. Confused by her sudden attitude change, he followed her.

Phaidor was taking an extra blanket and two of the pillows off the queen sized bed when he glanced through the doorway. She didn't look at Riddick as she passed him on her way back to the sofa. She quickly made her makeshift bed, stripped down to her long underwear, and climbed in.

Riddick felt thoroughly dismissed and wondered why. Everything had been going fine, and then she'd retreated into a neat little shell that didn't seem to have any room for him.

Was she playing hard to get? He doubted it. Looked more like attack and defend to him. And he was attacking. All her defenses had shot up. Odd, considering her reaction to him in the elevator. His instincts told him to drop it, but she'd stirred his curiosity now.

Later, he told himself as he stepped into the bedroom. He left the door open as he peeled off his own extra layers then crawled onto the large bed. The sheets were cold and he was more thankful for his long underwear than he'd expected.

Riddick had been counting on company to keep the bed warm.

#

Riddick awoke in the dark. Except for the strip lights in the floor marking the doorway to the hall and the bathroom the darkness was complete.

Listening carefully, his sensitive ears picked up the rustle of blankets and clothing from the living room. Phaidor, perhaps as restless as he was. She was a mystery, and he'd always been tempted by an enigma.

Unable to repress his curiosity, Riddick slid out of the bed, his bare feet making no noise on the thick carpeting. Retsuje might be a freezing wasteland above ground, but the mining company that operated its stations knew that if you wanted to keep the kind of people that did the work necessary to mine pulsate-falade you treated them right. Riddick was pleased this station was exactly as S2, complete with heated floors.

Despite that luxury, the apartment was slightly chilled, bringing to mind that they probably kept the heat on low for unoccupied units and that neither he nor Phaidor had adjusted it when they came in.

In the living room, Phaidor was sitting upright on the couch, leaning against the back, eyes closed as if she'd sat up and then dozed off in the middle of a thought.

"Are you cold?"

She gave a start at the sound of his voice and he knew he'd been right about her dozing off. Her gaze was wary, revealed by automatic lights that had flickered on discreetly and low to the floor around the room. She bent her head and leaned against the back of the couch.

"Always," she whispered, quiet enough that another person might not have heard her.

Riddick's hearing was keen, however, and he questioned her quietly. "Why?"

"It is a long story," she replied, and her voice was weary, sounding burdened by painful memories.

Riddick walked towards Phaidor as he answered. "You going anywhere?"

A pained sigh came from her and he picked up the shake of her vibrantly red head. "No. I suppose I am not."

Riddick sat beside her on the couch and leaned back into its padded depths. "Then tell me why you're always cold," he prodded.

The silence stretched between them, but it was not a cold gulf of separation. It was the silence of contemplation and memory. When finally she began to speak her voice was taut with anger. Riddick suddenly realized there was a deep, dark rage within Phaidor that she kept locked up for only herself.

"I was sixteen when I finally got away from my father. Too much pain there. Lorna is such a beautiful place, I didn't want to leave. But if I didn't, I knew he would kill me. I had to go.

"I stayed on-world but moved to another city many miles away. It was much like my hometown. I was almost happy there. For four years things were fine, and I lived. But when I was twenty, I was coming home from work, and three men confronted me. They were armed and I couldn't fight them without getting killed. I hoped that if I cooperated, gave them what they wanted, they would leave me alone. But they did not want my bag, my wallet, my comm...

"It was during the cold months, and the ground was frozen. So cold..." she went silent for a moment, shivered, continued in a voice devoid of emotion. "They dragged me to that cold ground and ripped away my clothes before they took turns at me. For hours they used me, and in my mind I went somewhere else. I was left for dead like that; on the ground and beaten.

"I crawled home and slept for three days on the kitchen floor. When I awoke much of the pain had faded. The signs were there, but I was separate from it. I left the following standard week. I'd seen too much evil there. Lorna was no longer beautiful to me. I haven't stayed in any one place for more than a few months. I was on Friara as long as I was due to a lack of funds and opportunity."

She turned to him in the dark and he felt the power of her gaze even though her face was in shadows. "They looked at me like a dog would look at a bitch in heat. They took me the same way. The look in their eyes as they did it. I will never trust a man that has that look in his eyes."

Phaidor turned her face away once more, staring at something only she could see. "Go to bed, Riddick. Leave me be in my own nightmares. I do not need you to look at me as you did and help me to remember. I already cannot forget."

The boiling anger in Riddick swelled and he reached out to grab her arm, his grip harsh.

"I've told you I don't tolerate hurting children. I also don't rape women. Every woman I've been with went willing. I've never raped a woman before, and you won't be the one I start with," he gritted out, his anger at Phaidor's rapists translating into his action and words.

"You are hurting me," she whispered, green eyes expressionless in the dark.

Riddick released her immediately, moving off the couch. He stood perfectly still before her, arms crossed over his chest.

The silence stretched between them, Phaidor watching him with wary confusion.

He finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. "I want you, Phaidor. I've made no secrets about that. But I won't force you to do anything. Shit, you can even have the bed. Go to sleep."

He waited for her to slide of the couch then watched her slowly retreat toward the bedroom. Before she'd left his sight, he swung around so that he was laying on the couch, the blankets rumpled beneath him.

Lost in his own thoughts, he was surprised to hear Phaidor's voice from the shadows of the hallway.

"Riddick. Come to bed."


	8. His Angel

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes   
By Dejah Thoris  
**Chapter Seven: His Angel**

The invitation was whispered, but Riddick heard it. It echoed through the room and in his head like a pair of cymbals clashing together. He rolled off the couch in one smooth motion, turning towards the hallway to seek where Phaidor stood in shadow.

They stood facing each other across the short distance that separated them for what seemed an eternity before Phaidor extended her hand, palm up, towards Riddick. Her fingers were slightly curled, beckoning him to her.

Riddick came to her slowly, reaching for and taking her hand in his. "This is what you want?"

She nodded slowly and walked backwards down the hallway and through the bedroom door, pulling gently on his hand. "Come to bed, Riddick," she repeated, her voice a throaty whisper.

"What changed, in that moment, Phaidor?" Riddick questioned, resisting the pull of her hand on his.

Phaidor considered him for a moment, studying his features in the dark. She seemed to search for adequate words before answering.

"You gave," she began, "when you could have taken." It was a simple answer, but an honest one.

A flood of gentleness he didn't know he possessed rushed through him and Riddick leaned forward to brush his lips across Phaidor's with exquisite tenderness, taking her breath into his lungs to help fill a hole he hadn't known was there.

He shifted closer, lifting their clasped hands up behind his neck. Riddick released her hand and she brought her other arm up and around to hold him close as he continued to kiss her with the delicate pressure of butterflies wings. He rested his hands on her slim hips and gently pushed her back through the bedroom, the bed his ultimate goal.

"I've hurt you," he whispered and she opened her eyes to gaze at him.

Phaidor shook her head. "No."

"Yes," he persisted and stroked his hand over her arm, indicating the fading bruises beneath her sleeve. Bruises inflicted by his rough grasp. "They're not even gone yet."

"Not gone, but forgotten." The gentle forgiveness in her voice seemed to heal a part of him that had been broken for far too long.

Warmth that had nothing to do with physical desire delegated he treat her like porcelain as he lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the bed.

Riddick laid Phaidor on the mattress and slid in beside her, holding her close to his muscled form, sharing his warmth. When she lifted a smooth palm to cup his jaw he turned his face into it, kissing the center. He could feel her wonder and it was surpassed only by his own. He'd never believed he was capable of such tenderness as he wanted to bestow on her. Never had he felt the need to make another person feel cherished. Wanted.

With a sound akin to a growl, Phaidor made it apparent she wanted more than just his tenderness. She grasped the back of his head and pulled his mouth hard to hers, dragging a groan from Riddick as her kiss became more demanding. He tangled his hands in the thick curtain of her hair.

When Phaidor's own searching hands slid to the hem of Riddick's undershirt and then glided beneath the ribbed cloth to touch his warm flesh, Riddick jerked and pressed himself against her questing fingers as she traced absent patterns on his flesh. Her nails dragged across his abdomen before she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged upward, silently telling him to remove the clothing.

Together they pulled off his shirt, sending it to a location somewhere beside the bed.

Gentle Phaidor drew a startled gasp from Riddick as she closed her lips around one flat male nipple. She ran her tongue over the taut nub before nipping at it with her teeth.

Riddick sucked in a hissing breath, tugging at Phaidor's bright red hair until she brought her mouth back to his. He growled deep in his chest, his tongue spearing between her lips to claim her mouth.

She moaned as he rolled her beneath him, pressing her into the bed with his greater weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth tighter to hers, her tongue sliding against his.

Clothes were found to be an immediate distraction, and together they tore every shred of fabric from each others bodies until they were skin to skin.

Riddick gazed down at Phaidor's lithe body. She stroked her fingers up and down the length of his back, then clutched him to her as he lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her, devouring her. He pulled away to place his lips against the rapid fluttering of her pulse, sucking gently, nipping the tender flesh.

Phaidor moaned as she turned her head away, exposing more of her throat to his gentle ministrations, but Riddick was only beginning his oral exploration. With a growl of almost feral pleasure, Riddick closed his lips over her right breast, suckling the taut nipple, bathing it with his tongue, teasing it with his teeth. He turned his attention to the other breast, repeating the process until she was undulating beneath him, gasping, shaking. He worked one rock hard thigh between her legs, feeling her moist heat against his skin as she ground herself against him, tiny whimpering moans escaping her throat as he continued his delicious assault on her senses.

The desire to thrust himself inside her and finish this sweet torture was almost more than Riddick could bare, but he restrained himself, pouring all his focus into bringing her pleasure. He raised himself above her on his left elbow, sliding his arm beneath the small of her back, arching her over it. He trailed the fingers of his right hand slowly down her silky skin, skimming her breasts, her ribs, the flat plane of her stomach before finally delving lower still to part the delicate folds of flesh between her legs. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he slid first one, then two fingers deep inside of her.

Phaidor gasped, bucking against his hand. He flashed her a wicked grin as he pressed his thumb against the hard nub of her clit, moving it back and forth in a maddening rhythm even as his fingers pressed skillfully against her inner walls. "Damn, you're tight," he rasped as she clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders and back.

She urged his mouth to hers and he speared her with his tongue in time to the thrusts of his fingers, swallowing her moans, drowning them in his own.

"Please," she gasped against his lips. Her hips were raised off the mattress, pressing hard against his hand. He pulled his mouth away to lock his eyes with hers.

"Come," he urged. "I want you to come."

As if she'd only needed to be asked, Phaidor's climax roared over them both. Her entire body seemed to clench around him and he thought the look on her face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Riddick settled himself between Phaidor's thighs, reveling in the feel of her silken legs wrapping tightly around his waist. His dark eyes locked to her green ones, Riddick sheathed himself inside her with one smooth thrust. She was hot, wet, and so tight he thought he was going to lose it. It became almost impossible to contain himself when another orgasm followed his entry. Phaidor thrashed against him, her legs wrapping automatically around his waist, holding him tightly against her. He shuddered, groaning, burying his face against her throat, struggling to hold himself still above her when the urge to thrust mindlessly gripped him with iron talons.

A long, tense moment passed with them both gasping, Phaidor with release and Riddick with barely restrained fervor. When he finally felt he could control himself, he slowly pulled himself almost completely free of her body before sliding back in to the hilt.

Phaidor gasped, eyes wide, as he filled her. "Riddick," she whispered, her eyes twin pools of heat staring up at him.

He continued his long, slow thrusts, building the tension. His muscles rippled below his smooth, glistening skin.

She hitched her legs higher around his hips, tilting herself towards him so that his thrusts slid that much deeper, bordering on painful with their intensity.

His jaw was clenched as he increased the tempo, the arm curved under her back sliding up so he could fist his fingers in her hair. She moaned his name again and he gasped in pleasure at the sound before capturing her mouth in a dizzying kiss.

Her tongue leapt to meet his, their kiss taking on the rhythm of their love making, the thrust of their hips. When Phaidor bit at his lower lip he shuddered.

"Phaidor. Phaidor." Her name was like a mantra. He couldn't stop saying it as he began to pound into her. He cupped his right hand in the crook of her knee, lifting her leg high. His lips fixed themselves to her throat, sucking, nipping, licking.

"More," she cried, her nails biting into his back. "Riddick, please!" she gasped, bucking against him. "Please, I want it. Please."

"What do you want?" he growled into her ear, nipping at the lobe. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to feel you come," she gasped and he felt her teeth against his throat, his shoulder. Her lips soft, a stark contrast to the little nips and bites she dusted across his flesh. "I want it."

Groaning, Riddick took Phaidor's mouth in a crushing kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips with almost violent ferocity. His thrusts came hard and fast, pounding into her again and again until they were both crying out in pleasure.

Phaidor ripped her mouth away from his to scream his name and he cried out with her, a wordless roar of exultation that sounded like her name. His climax tore through him like a hurricane, scattering thought and reason to the distant reaches of space and driving her there before him.

Phaidor mouth was opened in a silent scream of impossible pleasure, so intense that it could almost be described as pain. Riddick rode the wave of her orgasm, pulsing inside her, feeling her clench and flex around him. His hips rocked against her and he let out a shuddering groan, pressing his face into her hair, inhaling her scent as the last shuddering waves of their release coursed through them.

He collapsed above her but quickly tried to roll away, afraid of crushing her.

"Don't," she ordered, arms and legs clenching tight. "Don't move."

"I don't want to hurt you," he managed after a moment of labored breathing.

"You're not hurting me. You feel wonderful. Stay right there, for a moment."

Riddick gave in, shifting his weight slightly to the left so he could remain above her, their bodies still linked, without crushing her. He brushed a hand against his face and wasn't surprised to feel tears there. He could honestly say he'd never experienced something even remotely like that in his life.

They stayed that way for a long time, until Riddick noticed Phaidor's breathing becoming labored from the pressure of his body on her lungs. With a swift, strong twist he switched their positions, arranging her across his chest, his hands stroking her back and sifting through the long, silky strands of her hair. She gave a little gasp at the movement and then laughed with him before settling down above him.

He groaned as her fingers began to trace random patters on his skin, sliding delicately up his arms, across his shoulders, his throat, down his chest. She kept her touch feather light, using her nails and fingertips to stimulate his skin.

"That feels amazing," he growled.

She murmured something that sounded like, "You are amazing," but he could tell she was drifting off into sleep. He could feel it taking him as well, but couldn't stop the stray thoughts that drifted lazily through his mind.

For him, many thoughts were clearest in that moment between asleep and awake. He couldn't help but wonder what she could possibly see in him.

He was unsure of a woman that took him at face value. The fact that she didn't feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter was even more of a mystery. But then, Phaidor had never been one to talk unnecessarily. In the few weeks he'd been traveling with her he'd learned small talk was perhaps just as hard for her as it was for him.

With her, conversation had meaning. What he found himself feeling for her was deeper than anything he'd felt for anyone. She had a hold on him he'd never believed he could let anyone have. The feeling seemed to uncoil the ball of hate in the pit of his stomach. He continued leisurely stroking her back.

"Thank you."

Phaidor stirred slightly. "For what?" she asked, her words slow and sleepy.

"For excepting me for a man instead of a monster. I don't get that very often. In fact, I never have."

She seemed to come more awake then and even lifted herself up slightly to gaze at him.

"I do not want to judge you on what I have heard. I want to judge you by how you act towards me and the people I see you with. I will never take for granted that you are a very dangerous man, Riddick, but you are still a man. And a reasonably good one in your own way."

He smiled. "As long as you think so maybe I've got a chance." He kissed her long and slow and then pulled her back down to rest on his chest, feeling her fingers on his skin.

They slept like that, wrapped in each other. The nightmares kept their distance, and they slept.

#

Memories resurface when you have time to think. Even if you ignore them they keep pressing to the top, your brain working like a reverse sieve. All the stuff you want at the bottom works its way to the top and there you are, stuck in painful reverie.

Losing people is hard, always is. Caring then losing them is worse, especially for a man like me. I don't find people I can trust very often. When she was taken from me I thought I'd die with her. Standing alone in the mud with the rain falling down on us, I thought I'd just fall and let them have at me.

And they call me the monster. They've never had the one good piece of them torn away. Alive and warm one second, cold and gone the next. Blank eyes staring sightlessly at you from beneath long, dark lashes. I contained the animal, though. Kept going. Now I'm here, staring out this view shield, the kid at my side. She's sleeping, the holy man chanting away to his god. I hear my name in his prayers and it's strangely comforting to know someone, even an Islamic holy man, cares enough to pray for my soul.

Battered as it is, I still have one. I've forgotten it's there more than once. But I don't think I'll forget again, not now.

I hear her voice in my dreams now. Calling me back from the edge, even as I stare down into the abyss. Her power over me still lingers, the long fingers curled around my heart, keeping me human. Even as it slept, my humanity, she waited. Waited until I was ready to come back and live.

For her. For them. For myself.

Heaven freezes, Hell closes. I still stand in the middle, awaiting the outcome.

And so I go on, my angel at my side.


	9. Quieting the Beast

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Eight: Quieting the Beast  
**

They were already on my tail by that point. I wouldn't have thought they'd be so close to finding me already, though. The game had begun and I knew the rules, I just didn't know they'd already fired the starting gun.

Looking back I can see the mistakes. You have to learn from them or die trying. Back in grade school the teachers would tell you, "It's only a mistake if you don't learn from it."

I never looked too deep into that bull shit they spoon fed you. The tidy package they used to wrap the world in wasn't big enough to contain the truth, and any escapee worth his weight in hard currency learned well enough that the real world couldn't wrap them up either. Unless they slipped.

Then you'd end up right where you were put. A tiny figure in a box, shiny bow and all. Along with the rest of them I found myself trapped in the box, but with the right tools and enough attitude you can gut your way out of any wrapper. Any physical one.

I quickly found that the worst prisons weren't all slams in the middle of nowhere. Surface-bound or space-stationed, it didn't matter. Compared to the prison of your own thoughts, those were private resorts.

The only escape from your own prison of memories is insanity, and I've never had the guts to climb that far down into the abyss. When it stares at me I beg her to let me fall into its black depths and drown the pain no one sees. But her voice calls me back, and like an obedient dog I come running, pressing my head beneath her hand to feel her fingers against my skin. Even now that she's gone I come running, pulled between two worlds. Life and death, the fence between. I wonder if I'll have to ride it forever.

I want that painful thing called humanity to set me free. I want to disappear back into that realm that I called home for so long. Where the only consequence was death, and the game drove me to new heights of insanity. My conscience was nonexistent, my only link to humanity a tiny voice in the back of my head; long forgotten, it had grown quiet. The beast was in control and I didn't want to fight it.

In fact, I welcomed it. I savored it like a drowning man might savor air. I reveled in it, the voice silent.

Then she came. Unexpected. Unwarranted. Unwanted. For a while. Eyes that had seen too much. Flesh that had felt too much pain. And yet, when she looked into the soul of a killer, a monster, she saw a man. A "good man", she said.

How could I turn away from that? How could I pretend there was no link from her healing soul to my battered one?

How could I not love her?

#

The engines of Riddick's newly-bought ship purred to life. It was more of a screaming rumble, but it sounded like a purr to Riddick.

"Sounds good," he commented offhand, flipping switches as he ran through a system check. "Hull integrity one hundred percent."

He glanced at Phaidor to see her smiling at him, eyes dancing. "Proud of your new ship?" she asked.

He laughed. "Yeah. I guess I am." He reached over and took her hand. "But it's _our _ship."

Riddick had found himself thinking of the few possessions they'd acquired since arriving on Retsuje as "theirs" without even realizing it had happened. They each made separate wages, but that didn't seem to make a difference. It wasn't his money and her money. It was _their _money. It was easy to accept Phaidor as a part of his life. She made it easy. She made it wonderful.

When her hands were on his skin he knew his heart was in her teeth. She could soothe or break him. He felt he'd come to a point of such total devotion, it wouldn't matter. Every second with her was worth the risk of pain. It was worth the risk of loss.

Phaidor must have noticed his absent expression because she gripped his hand tighter, bringing him out of his thoughts. He smiled at her again, leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.

"What were you thinking?" she asked him.

He went to pull back, but she caught the back of his hand with one of her incongruously quick movements, pulled his mouth to hers again for a deeper, longer kiss.

When she finally let him pull back again, his heartbeat thudding harder than before, he couldn't help but give her a wicked grin. "I was thinking about you."

Her smile was full of warmth. "Good." She kissed him again. "What are you thinking now?"

Riddick waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "That we haven't taken a very good look at the sleeping quarters on board. Maybe we should do that before we leave."

Phaidor laughed, hopped out of her seat and tugged on his hand, urging him to his feet. "Let's do it, then."

His laugh was a deep rumble of sound as he pulled her against his chest. "That's exactly what I had in mind."

#

An hour later, flushed and temporarily satiated, Riddick and Phaidor were back in the cockpit. All the ship's systems had been checked, the power cells were fully charged and running at optimal efficiency, and their few possessions were carefully stowed away.

The arrangement had come about naturally. Riddick's piloting skills had been put to good use and he'd been often used to transport supplies from one settlement to another. Supply orders were filled by a drop ship that came every two standard months and, occasionally, one settlement might need supplies that another station had.

When Riddick wasn't working heavy machinery in the mines he was making deliveries and picking up goods. The transport he commonly used was a refitted personnel craft of moderate size, designed with sleeping quarters for six, a galley, rec space, six cryo-lockers for prolonged space travel, two heads, and an exercise area. There were three small decks, one for the cockpit and various computer systems on board, one for living space, and the third, lowest deck was for the engines, power cells, and a large cargo area.

The company that had exclusive mining rights on Retsuje had recently purchased new transports for inter-station travel and S4 had found itself with two extra transports and no way to get rid of them without taking a loss.

Riddick had offered to buy the transport he'd used throughout his employment. For a reduced price he would do a last supply run for his employer to all the settlements, not just S4, and would deliver a cargo of pulsate-falade to the cargo ship currently in orbit awaiting its next shipment. He'd already finished the supply runs while Phaidor had stayed at S4 to pack their belongings, and now they only had to rendezvous with the cargo ship before they were free to go anywhere they pleased.

"Ready to go?" he questioned quietly, his deep voice a soft burr of sound.

"Wherever you are going," Phaidor answered with a smile.

He took her hand and kissed it before turning back to the controls. He slowly raised the throttle, controlling the engine velocity. Soon the frozen surface of Retsuje was falling away below them, becoming nothing more than a lovely array of cold weather days and hot nighttime memories.

They'd spent eight standard months on Retsuje. Eight months of heat despite the planet's freezing temperatures.

The delivery took less than two hours. They docked in the cargo ship's massive hull and were met with an expert loading crew that had the cargo of precious metal removed in short order.

Free at last, Riddick watched the black of space wrap a silencing blanket around the ship as they disembarked from the docking bay. It flowed through him, stilling his mind, allowing his thoughts to fester. They'd be on him by now. Far away, but coming. It was only a matter-of-time before one of them came for him. Then he'd have to kill again, slip back into the roll of executioner. A deadly routine that was stealing away his humanity, even as it was only a thought.

And what humanity it was. Bliss. They said it was ignorance, but he knew better. Bliss was a tender hand on his face, stroking away the pain and the hate. Bliss was green eyes framed by black lashes, staring into his as a blissful voice whispered words of comfort and trust. Bliss was five-foot-seven-inches tall with flame red hair and chocolate skin. Bliss for Riddick was Phaidor.

She was exotic beyond compare. In all his travels and journeys, he'd never once come across another human being like her. Not in looks or temperament.

"Phaidor."

"Yes, Riddick?"

"Do all the people of Lorna look like you?" Riddick turned in his seat to look at her, studying her profile. Her soft mouth had gone thin and hard and he realized he didn't know very much about his Phaidor.

Phaidor shook her head slowly, sending red strands around her face in a shimmering curtain of hair. "No," she whispered finally. "There are no others that look like me."

Riddick had often found himself curious about Phaidor's impossible coloring. At first he'd thought it might be a result of the expensive body modifications some people went through, having their very DNA altered to make hair, eye, and skin color permanently altered. He knew her better than that now. He also knew she never would have had the money for that sort of procedure. The impossible, blood red of her hair, the flashing brilliance of her emerald eyes, and the deep mocha of her skin were the features she'd been born to, but how something like that would have occurred was a mystery to him.

It seemed that Phaidor retreated to deep thought, perhaps considering her response. When she finally spoke it was as if from a distance. As if she were speaking of someone else from a distant place.

"Twenty-eight years ago a scientist on the planet I am from started a project. He believed he could make a sort of super-human race. With the right DNA samples and biological engineering he believed he could start a new race.

"The idea was to make an extremely intelligent human being. Speed, grace, beauty... The capacity to become anything. And apart from being different inside, this new being was to look different on the outside. Different from any human being ever seen.

"Skin tone of an African, hair of impossible color, eyes the same. When the first of the race was born it was immediately sent to a military facility for training. It was taught the art of war and combat. Proper etiquette, literature, history. Seduction. Everything. But when the being could not be persuaded to hurt others, funding for the project was brought to a sudden halt.

"The scientist lost everything and turned on his creation. He was this creation's father, and he beat and threatened it until, one day, his creation ran away."

Riddick had felt his chest tightening with every word from Phaidor's lips.

"That creation was me," she continued. "You could ask me a number of questions on philosophy, warfare, history, languages, and a multitude of other subjects and I would have answers. You can test me on a multitude of martial arts techniques and weapons and I could perform the techniques, use the weapons.

"But none of that saved me when those men in the ally attacked me. Caught unawares, I was unable to defend myself against three grown men. I am still a failure to my father." These last words were said with a sort of painful resignation. "I am never enough for anyone."

A piece of Riddick's stone heart broke and he pulled Phaidor from her seat to his lap, setting her so she faced him, straddling his thighs.

"Phaidor, you are more than enough. You're perfect. Never put yourself down again. If you can bring me back from the hell I've been surviving since I was a kid you must be an angel. You're mine, and every time I look at you I know I'm yours. No one has made me feel that before. Phaidor, no one has ever made me feel anything other than hate or pity.

"You make me feel warm. Alive." He rested his forehead against hers, locking her gaze with his. "You're my angel."

Silent tears trembled on Phaidor's lashes before falling to run slowly down her face. She closed her eyes as Riddick kissed the salt of her tears away, his hands tangling in her hair. His heart clenched, twisting in his chest.

"Riddick," she whispered against his lips as he brought her mouth to his. "I love you."

Riddick kissed her tenderly then pulled away slowly, his heart full of a sort of wonder. "You are an angel, aren't you? You must be, because despite everything and everyone, I love you, too."


	10. The Siren's Song

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Nine: The Siren's Song**

The walls were closing in on me. Time cut short. Lost blood on cold, wet ground. Nightmares flashed before my eyes, interchanging between black and white, then searing color. Sharp sounds and sights. Then lost, muted to pale gray. Black rain falling in the night.

Always the night. Criminals safety, lovers blanket. Souls death. My soul's death. Killed, reborn, only to be killed again. Reborn once more. Vicious cycle. Awaiting the next moment, cursing God, yet praying that He'll forgive enough to let me live.

Hate. For them. For myself. While she died, I lived. I, who didn't deserve that first breath, lived. I, who was cast away and abandoned like so much trash, lived. I, who loved and was left behind, lived.

Faith for me seems to be a lost cause. The Christians believe that if you are truly repentant all will be forgiven. Just ask the zombie jew into your heart and you will be welcomed into glorious eternity. It can't be that easy. Nothing is that easy. The Catholics believe a little confession time in a closet with some priest you can't even see correctly in another closet beside you will fix everything, along with a few Hail Marys. Do the Catholics have any idea how long I'd be tracing that beaded pattern? Another prison, that. The Mormons. Hell, I don't have a clue what they think. Something about "holy underwear" and too many heavens. If there is a Heaven, I'm sure God kept the limit to one. Who needs more than one house, really? Chrislams, the Imam's folk, pray. More beaded prayers. Facing Mecca on tiny rugs, on your knees. No god will ever bring me to my knees.

Richard B. Riddick kneels to no one now. But Richard B. Riddick did once kneel to someone. A queen. Strong and beautiful. She deserved so many things, none of them an escaped con. None of them me. But she had me, and kept me. My heart on a platter, served without embellishment or appetizers. I wore it on my sleeve and she pulled it on her leash, even if she didn't know it.

Titanium keys to the defenses of my soul in her hand, she had the power over me so many had wanted. Leverage at its best. But instead of betraying that power and misusing it, she cherished it like bars of gold, or mounds of diamonds.

I never wanted to belong to anyone. I never wanted to be anyone's pet. I cannot be bought, and even I have my limits. Or so I thought. With the soft palm of her hand she changed everything. And the beast grew quiet, calming beneath the gentle warmth of the sunlight that was her.

The beast slept, peaceful and satiated at last. The pain withdrew, still a scar, but healed. The hate faded, swept away in the flow of a tender river. Healing, and not of the physical brand, came and mended the tears.

The kid is looking at me, a question on her face. She doesn't say anything, but instead reaches out to take my hand, tentative at first. I surprise myself by clasping the small hand in my own larger one, squeezing slightly, as the single tear that streams down my face is given company by another. And another.

I let them come. I just close my eyes and let them come, accepting that they were sent to wash away the pain, just as she once did. A poor substitute, but a piece of her is in them. That makes them alright.

A deep sigh comes from the kid and I feel her hand tighten in mine. A glance in her direction confirms it. She's crying, too. She's got that same look on her face that I remember from long ago.

Not pity. Far from it. I would never abide pity. But faith is in that expression. Trust. An offering of comfort, laid at my feet, but not forced. Only to be accepted on my terms. Perfect terms.

I want to accept, but right now, in this moment, I can't. Before I can take that comfort, before I can even consider it, I have to be solitary for a while longer. Stand apart, on the outside, for a bit more time.

Before I can let that knot in my stomach unclench and the lump in my throat fade, I have to suffer a little longer. It stays for tonight. For tomorrow night. And the night after that. What stays is the hate. The hate for me, who lived.

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Regrets are wasted on the past"? It's a true enough statement. But my regrets are tied intricately to my memories.

So, if I release those regrets and focus on tomorrow, what will I be left with? Not the memory of her face, smiling at me just for the pleasure of smiling at me. Not the memory of her hand settled gently on my cheek just to touch me. Not the warmth of her love given so freely to me.

Without those regrets I'm left with no memories. Then I'd have nothing. And she, even in death, is worth so much more than that.

#

Riddick watched. It was something he was used to doing, and something he wasn't used to doing at the same time. A strange contradiction.

He watched Phaidor. Not for survival, and that was the strange part. He didn't watch her because he felt threatened by her presence. He didn't watch her to learn her patterns and routines so he could later use them against her.

He watched her for the sheer pleasure of it. It was obvious she was trained by the best and Riddick couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't defended herself against him back in that mud-hole she'd been living in. Watching her now he wondered who would have won.

And what about the piloting? Shouldn't a biogenetically engineered chick with the training Phaidor had know how to pilot better than "a little?" She should be able to pilot well.

But that wasn't a problem. Any question Riddick asked Phaidor answered. Truthfully, honestly. He knew she would never lie to him.

Just nights before he'd asked her a number of questions.

"Why didn't you fight back?"

A delicate shrug. "I would have lost."

"I wonder..."

The gentle hand on his face, trusting green eyes gazing at him. "I do not. I am in a better place now than I thought I would ever be. Even if I could have won, I would not trade that meeting for anything."

Warmth chased away another piece of the cold as she stroked his jaw before brushing her lips against his.

Another night, another question.

"You can pilot."

"Yes. You know I can, Riddick."

"But not well?"

"No, not very well. That is why I needed you. I could not navigate the damn tree cover." A small smile flicked his way as she stretched on the floor beside the sofa.

"But you were trained to do everything else well. Not just well, damn near perfect."

Phaidor shook her head. "It was long ago that the project was canceled. Father continued to have me trained, despite his beatings, in case funding was ever continued. I was only in the basics of piloting when I ran away."

"Why did you let him beat you?"

"I did not. But it is hard to fight back against someone close to twice your size, especially if they are carrying a whip and a shock-stick. I'm highly trained, yes. I am not unnaturally strong."

Now he didn't have to ask about the scars. The scars dotting her back and abdomen that looked like teeth marks burned into the skin. A cattle prod. "Father" had been one sick mother fucker.

No whip scars, though. The good doctor had been careful with his beatings. Whip hard enough to hurt, raise welts, bruise. Yet not hard enough to break skin.

Riddick hoped he'd get to run into the guy someday. In a nice dark alley with his favorite blade in his pocket. In fact, he was counting on it.

Shaking off his memories, Riddick watched Phaidor slide through her routines. A flowing mixture of Jeet Kune Do, Tai Chi, Kung Fu, Karate, Yoga, Tae Kwon Do and anything else she happened to be proficient in. The forms shifted between soft and hard combinations, tension and force.

Riddick recognized the techniques. Years of training had left him educated in many forms of hand-to-hand combat, ranging from Aikido to Yoga.

As time passed he was granted the opportunity to train with her in the use of a number of weapons. She hadn't been exagerating when she'd told him she knew how to handle a large variety of merciless objects. From A to Z she could slice, shoot, punch, and kick her way through most situations. She just didn't like to.

She hated that she'd been designed to manipulate with her smell, her voice, her body and face. That she'd been built to maim, kill, and destroy. No one had thought about her soul. It was gentle and kind. She made it clear to him that she understood what he was and it didn't horrify or frighten her. But she'd been designed to be a gun. To be pointed at a target and to blindly seek it out and kill it. That disgusted her.

Their time on Retsuje had been well spent. The hours had been long and demanding, but even work "days" had fourteen hours of down time.

The planet had set its own work schedule naturally. A perfectly verticle axis left night and day evenly divided. Far-side and near-side shifts worked alternately through all twenty-eight of Retsuje's standard hours.

Working identicle shifts had left them with plenty of time together, even if large portions were spent sleeping and taking care of basic human necessities. But Riddick felt blessed to have had so much time with Phaidor. Her easy honesty had even brought him out of his shell. Without a single prodding question from her, he'd told her about his life, his past. Even his fears, the ones he rarely even acknowledged to himself.

There was a solace for him in her that he'd never believed he would find. He'd given up entertaining the thought of ever having someone to love and be loved in return as a teen, thrown into slam for his first murder.

Phaidor was unlike any other woman he'd ever met. It wasn't just physical and he tried to make sure she knew that every day. She touched a part of him long left cold.

With her it more than sex. It wasn't even just making love. It _was _love. A soul once hidden expanded beneath a gentle touch and Riddick found making love with Phaidor was the siren's song calling him to the shore.


	11. Safety In Your Love

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Ten: Safety In Your Love**

We traveled to a few different planets and between the cities on their surfaces, moving small cargos for private companies. It seemed those few short months lasted an eternity. In my mind they'll never fade. More of those memories, tied to regrets. I guess you take the bad with the good. Memories of her are the good, my regrets the bad. Hand in hand, they go together.

I'll drag around both burdens for the rest of my life. The load is both heavy and light. I shouldn't be surprised; Phaidor was my lovely, walking contradiction.

We drifted aimlessly, my head clouded with what could only be called pure joy. Delirium. I was enraptured by her presence in my life. Her steady warmth never faded. And I tried her. Or thought I did. My silences didn't bother her. My nightmares didn't frighten her. She wasn't worried that the beast might snap and turn on her, the threat that its contented thrumming would turn to a growl caused her no fear.

It was strange that I didn't worry about it either. I could trust myself with her. All my secrets and pains were accepted. She was always accepting. It didn't matter that everything I was, everything I had been, was dark. She wasn't afraid of the dark, literal or otherwise.

The dark is where I found her. The dark is where I found a slight reprieve. In her arms I found the balm that soothed the sting of my wounds.

My time with her was a song. I should have known that song would have to end.

#

It almost felt like coming home. Each day leading to the next in a steady routine that calmed the pain within.

Porcall was a highly populated planet and there was plenty of work for them on its bustling surface. While Riddick put long hours into establishing an identity for them as freelance traders, they both worked full time jobs.

Riddick's many equipment usage skills was being put to good use as a warehouse loader, operating the massive grav-lifts to load and unload cargos from commercial vessels.

Phaidor's people skills were tested as an administrative assistant in the same company. Her looks had been utilized to get some of the cruder, rougher cargo-masters to be more cooperative with paying various fees, from taxes to docking dues. It was amazing how amiable some of the dirty bastards could be in the light of her smile.

Today was their day off, and they were sitting at the table, quiet, having just finished the meal they'd cooked together. No words, but Riddick's thoughts plagued him. How much longer would she stay with him?

It was no longer a question of how much longer he was going to keep her around before he left her off somewhere that she could take of herself. Now he wanted her company, and if she were to leave him, he knew it would hurt. Bad.

How much longer until she couldn't tolerate the dark? Before the beast drove her away and the love she'd convinced herself she felt wasn't enough? He'd never hurt her on purpose, but that didn't mean she wouldn't get hurt.

"Riddick."

He tilted his head, his gaze meeting hers. "Yeah?"

"It does not bother me."

Riddick lifted a brow. "What doesn't bother you?"

Phaidor cocked her head to the side, the gesture almost reprimanding him. "I know what you are thinking. You are thinking I will leave. That you will do something to drive me away and I will be gone.

"Riddick, I am not going anywhere."

He groaned and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "How do you read me so well?"

He heard her get up and circle the table to him. She sat on his lap, straddling him. It was common for her to do that, now. She did it when she wanted him to listen to her. He opened his eyes, looping his arms loosely around her waist.

"I can read you because you are my heart, and I have always known what my heart is telling me." Phaidor leaned in, placing one hand on his chest, over his heartbeat, and the other on his jaw, tracing the shadowed line with the pad of her thumb. "I will stay as long as you want me, Riddick."

Riddick closed his eyes, pressing his face against her hand, his fingers moving over the skin of her back, beneath her shirt. "I love you," he whispered, turning his lips into her palm. The words came easier now. Easier every day. He'd never thought he'd say them to anyone, but he told her as often as he could how he felt. He was in Heaven.

Phaidor removed her hand from his face and lowered her lips to his, tracing his mouth with her tongue. He groaned, sliding his hands up into her hair, cradling her skull as their mouths mated, tongues sliding against each other. The desire he felt for her was never far from the surface, always on a slow simmer, waiting to be stoked to full flame.

Breath mingled as Riddick slid his palms down the sides of her throat, over her shoulders, down her arms, resting his hands on her ribs, just below her breasts. She moaned against his mouth, arching against his chest.

Her hands grabbed handfuls of his t-shirt, tugging it from the waistband of his pants until she could slide her palms over his skin. Her fingers flicked across his nipples, drawing a groan from his throat.

Riddick lifted his arms as Phaidor tugged his shirt over his head, then copied the action with her so he could cup her bare breasts, rolling the taut nipples between his fingers. He swallowed her cry of pleasure, working her out of her pants until she sat naked across his lap, feasting on his mouth like a woman starved.

Phaidor grabbed his belt, pulling it from his waist before undoing the buttons at his fly. And then she slipped her hand inside his cargos, wrapping her slim, strong fingers around his erection, stroking him as she pressed her lips against his, absorbing his groan of pleasure.

Riddick shifted, lifting his hips against her hand, wanting more but unwilling to move away from her stroking fingers. "Phaidor," he growled, his voice a deep rumble as he arched again. Her eyes met his in silent understand and then he was inside of her, their flesh one.

She arched like a bow, thrusting her breasts into sharp relief and he lowered his head, taking one dark nipple between his lips as he gripped her hips, lifting his own to her.

His name was a cry of pleasure on her lips as Riddick thrust up, hard, giving her every thick inch of his length, pulsing inside of her. She gripped his shoulders so hard her nails left little crescent indents in his flesh.

Riddick felt the bite of her nails in his skin and tangled a hand in her hair, bringing her wet mouth to his, kissing her deep.

He needed to be deeper, he thought. With a groan, he stood, his hands hooked under Phaidor's thighs. He turned them around, sat her on the edge of the chair so he was kneeling between her spread legs, still buried within her. His lips hungered for her and he took her mouth again, thrusting his tongue in tandem with his hips, bringing her to the edge and then slowing, allowing her to calm before starting the pounding rhythm again, dragging her back to the precipice.

Pleasure, akin to pain, speared through him as Riddick felt himself approach the brink. He pounded away, thrusting wildly, his eyes locked with hers as the passion gripped them both in a tight, hot fist.

"Love you," Phaidor cried as the passion consumed them, dragging them down into the dark. A shudder started in her and ended in him, pulling away any sane thought they might have had.

Riddick burst past the barrier, exploding inside of her, jerking uncontrollably. While the shudders dulled to sweet shivers, Riddick rested his forehead against hers, their breathing labored. He loved the feel of Phaidor's nails trailing absent designs on his back.

He stroked her wildly waving hair, pulling the strands between his fingers as they regained their breath, neither speaking. Words weren't necessary.

Twilight had filled their apartment, so Riddick stood, bringing Phaidor with him. She gasped at the motion and he grinned at her, still not breaking their connection.

He carried her to their small room and laid her on the soft, battered mattress and made love to her again and again, until she wept from his tenderness. Then he took her fast and hard, driving her to the edge until she screamed his name again and again, her love a mantra that pushed away the shadows.

A long while later, the smell of their love making permeating the air, Phaidor lay sprawled across Riddick's chest, dozing peacefully. His arms were tight around her and he felt her stir slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, knowing she heard.

Her hand stroked his chest and shoulder. "You do not have to. I love you."

"I know," he said, conscious of the wonder in his voice. "And that's why I'm thankful."

Phaidor levered herself up on his chest then bent, sliding her lips over his. "You love me back. I know, because you tell me, and that is more than I ever hoped to have from anyone. I should thank you."

"Then we're both thankful, and we're both safe."

"Yes. With you, my love, I will always feel safe. There is safety for me in your love."


	12. First Signs of Trouble

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Eleven: First Signs of Trouble**

The end was approaching. Like an oncoming freighter it was inevitable. I should have seen that from the beginning. The moment I realized how important she was to me, I should have realized that it would end. I only wish it hadn't.

Another piece of me died with her. Or so I thought. But maybe her presence in my life made that piece stronger, and it was only sleeping. I can feel it stirring now, reawakening that part of me that is human. That part that craves humanity.

Who would believe that Richard B. Riddick, that Big Evil, would crave humanity? I guess I've gotten soft. Or maybe I always was and just needed someone to show me that being soft, at least a little, can be okay. And what do I know of humanity? I've asked myself that over and over again. I think, maybe, I know a lot more about it than most people.

I know you can't stick it in a box and expect it to be one way and only one way. Humanity comes in many forms. I'm proof of that. When I told Carolyn I wouldn't know how to rejoin the human race, I wasn't lying. I don't know how, but I know I can. I was there once, with her, but then I found myself violently thrown out again. On the outside, I was looking in.

It took more death to bring me back. It seems all I am and ever will be revolves around death. That can't be true, though, because she was life and all I am was made better with her.

God must be laughing. I won't wait until Hell freezes over. I won't stand before Heaven's closed gates. Fuck the stereotypes. Heaven freezes and hell closes, but I'm still moving forward.

They better be ready for me.

#

Riddick knew someone was tailing him. Phaidor knew it, too. She lifted a slim red brow, her eyes sliding in the direction of their little groupie. The guy was standing by a fruit stand, pretending to eye some oranges "fresh" from Earth.

He was tall, not much shorter than Riddick but without his weight, sporting curly, reddish-brown hair and cobalt blue eyes. He'd approached Phaidor when she went to buy some apples at a fruit stand earlier.

"Hey, there."

Phaidor had lifted her slim brows and raised herself to her full height, someone managing to look down on him although he stood several inches taller than her.

"I am busy." Cool and crisp, Riddick had smiled.

He wasn't smiling now.

"Let's lose him," Riddick murmured. Phaidor smiled and nodded. "Roof?"

"Whatever you say, Riddick."

"I love it when you talk like that, darlin'," he growled, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. He checked their shadow's position, and seeing he wasn't looking, tossed their bags up on the roof, then boosted Phaidor up to meet them.

Phaidor grabbed the ledge and swung up gracefully before turning and reaching down. Riddick gripped her offered forearm and felt her slender fingers curl around his own wrist before she began to tug. He swung up his other arm and grabbed the ledge and they were both looking down when the man turned around, looking for them.

Rage warred with confusion on his face and Riddick suppressed a laugh as the man began searching frantically for them, peering between vending booths and around corners. No go there.

Phaidor's shoulders shook with ill contained laughter and they began jumping rooftops. The crammed buildings made their progress easy. Rarely did they have to jump more than three feet, and at the longest five. The sprawling urban metropolis was a haven of easily traversed streets and, Riddick thought jokingly, highways.

After putting a mile between them and the man, Riddick spotted an emergency stairway and they quickly moved back to the ground.

"You think he'll keep trying?" Riddick questioned as they walked quietly down the narrow street, carrying their grocery bags.

Phaidor shrugged and Riddick noted that over the past few months she'd picked up more and more of his gestures and phrasings. Not the proper Ms. Phaidor anymore, he thought, smiling.

"He might," she replied finally. She stilled suddenly and he turned to face her. "No. I know he'll keep trying."

Riddick lifted his brows. "How do you know?"

Another shrug. "I do not know. I just know. You've had feelings like this before, Riddick."

Riddick nodded then turned and kept walking, knowing she'd follow.

"Trouble?" he questioned quietly.

Silence, then a nod. "Yes. Trouble."

#

"How'd work go?" Riddick questioned the next day as Phaidor walked in the door. She looked asleep on her feet and flashed him a weary smile before dropping to one of the ugly, mismatched couches that furnished the main room of their apartment. When their employer had said they provided convenient housing for their employees they hadn't said they would be attractive.

Phaidor groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. "It went," she replied. "Slowly and painfully."

Riddick dropped down on the couch beside her. "I've secured a cargo that needs to go to the Igeuran System. We leave next week. Ready to relocate, doll?"

"Ah," she smiled. "On the proverbial road again."

"Backrub?"

"Please, yes," she replied with tired enthusiasm.

Riddick laughed and pulled Phaidor into the cradle of his thighs so her back was to his chest. When she slumped against him, dropping the back of her head onto his shoulder, he laughed again.

"I can't rub your back if you lean against me like that."

Phaidor nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. "Don't want to move," she answered, but it came out sounding more like, "Dun'anna'ove," her words muffled against his throat.

With a reluctant sigh, she finally leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees, allowing Riddick to massage the stiff muscles in her back, neck and shoulders. Phaidor let out a low, pleasured groan that suddenly had Riddick's thoughts centered on doing something to her other than rubbing her back.

When she arched back against his hands he sucked in a sharp breath, ignoring his baser impulse in favor of continuing the back rub.

Riddick massaged his way down to her lower back then worked his hands up under her shirt, kneading the skin beneath. He unhooked her bra and noticed a faint sound, almost like a purr, was rumbling from within her throat. He smiled and continued to rub the knotted muscles.

The holoscreen suddenly flashed on and he realized Phaidor was scanning channels for a movie. She paused her surfing on a channel dedicated to remastered movies from the first century of film.

Riddick was only mildly curious in what she was doing, more interested in the silky feel of her skin and the delicate strength of her muscles under his hands.

"You seen this before?" she questioned, pressing back against his hands once more.

Riddick shook his head absently, watching the animal-skin clad actors interacting with men dressed in red, thigh length coats. Some wore powdered wigs and more make-up than the women. "No, what is it?"

"Last of the Mohicans," she answered, sighing. "Lovely movie, really. I think you'll like it."

"Okay. I'll watched." He pulled her back against his chest and she rested her head on his shoulder as they watched the movie play across the screen.

Riddick wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers tracing the narrow band of flesh between her pants and shirt.

They fell asleep like that. Riddick would never forget that day, or any other spent with Phaidor before it. Like the next two days to come, they would be indelibly burned into his memory.


	13. Against the Warning

Note: If you're reading, please leave me some feedback. I crave it. I need it. I'm a junkie for your love. Or hate. Please, darling. Do this one little thing for me?

#

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Twelve: Against the Warning**

Bloodhounds were bred to track anything and everything. Give them a scent and they'll track it until they find it, anxiously awaiting that gratifying pat on the head from their master.

I read once about a pair of bloodhounds that were used in the search for a little girl. When the hunting party approached a river they believed they'd lost the trail. Suddenly, both dogs leapt into the river and began swimming in circles over the same spot. Again and again, that same circle.

The party couldn't figure out what was causing the well-trained animals to act so strange. They called and called to the stubborn animals until finally one of the men swam out to collect them.

Then he saw it. The little girl, laying still on the bottom of the river. She'd fallen in while playing and was dragged downriver to rest at the murky bottom, caught between two rocks.

The man dove to the bottom and grabbed the kid, pulling her to shore. She'd been under much too long, dead already. But the dogs had found her, and they'd gotten their pat on the head. Good dogs.

But, like I said, those bloodhounds will hunt anything they're told to hunt. Even convicts named Richard B. Riddick. That's what Johns was: A bloodhound and I was his goal. Catch me and he got his pat on the head, hard currency, from his master, the United Interstellar Federation.

So, like good prey does, I ran. I didn't run fast enough.

I don't think I have to tell you what happens next. The part where the simple find-and-retrieve dog turns into the wolf and tears out the throat of its quarry.

Teeth, sharp and sinister, tearing away at all there was supporting the life within.

But we're not there yet. There's still a bit more to tell before you see how it ended. Before you see how I lost, he won, and I was still caught in the middle.

#

Four days had passed since they went to the city. Four days since they'd seen their stalker. His existence haunted them.

Riddick wasn't fooled by the nickel slick badge the guy had been sporting, the blue uniform, or the gauge. He was just another merc, and Riddick was just another payday.

Four days passed before the food from their previous grocery run petered out. It was obvious they would have to head back to the public market for food.

"He'll be there," Phaidor murmured, her hand clutched in his as they hiked to the market. Three miles. Not too far, but a decent workout.

"I figured you'd say that," Riddick answered, giving her hand a squeeze. "Should we kill him?"

Phaidor seemed to consider his question and he searched her face for distaste at his matter-of-fact proposal. It never came.

"Maybe," she answered. "I hate to say that he may become a very serious problem for us."

"I don't like being followed," Riddick growled, making no effort to hide his anger at being stalked by yet another shit-eating merc.

"Neither do I, but we need to handle this delicately. We are only a few days away from leaving so getting fingered as this merc's killers would be very unfortunate. I will not risk losing you for this fool. We should wait and try to leave here as quietly as we came."

Riddick nodded. "Okay, I concede the battle to you, darlin'. Your point is made and I'll have to admit, albeit reluctantly, that you're right. I'd rather gut and stuff him, personally," he replied with a shrug.

Phaidor shifted closer to him, bringing his hand up to her lips to brush his knuckles with a kiss. "I know, and I would like you to, but I do not want to lose you. I never thought I would find someone I could trust and love, but I have, and I will not risk you being taken away from me."

Riddick used his grip on Phaidor's hand to pull her against his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers, feeling her hands cradle the back of his neck and head, fingers stroking lightly

"You won't lose me, Phaidor," he whispered, not caring they were standing in the middle of a crowded street, surrounded by nosey onlookers. "I'm here, and despite what anyone thinks I am, I know I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," she murmured and he kissed her long and deep, ignoring the roaring cat calls that issued from a passing crowd of teenagers.

"C'mon. Let's get some food to last a few more days," Riddick said finally, leaning back slightly.

Phaidor nodded and gave him a loving smile. He felt the usual warmth flood his soul, relieving that ache that had grown less and less over the last few months. Taking her hand in his once more, they headed towards the open market, now only a mile away.

Entering the market center of the city, they split up and went about finding the groceries they'd need. The plan was to buy enough to last until they were scheduled to claim their cargo and dust off planet. They would resupply the ship the day before departure.

Riddick was just about finished with his end of the shopping, a loaded grocery bag clutched in each hand, when he spotted Phaidor being tailed by the merc. She had one full grocery bag over her shoulder and was packing a few more items into another as she chatted amiably with the produce vendor.

The merc was catty-corner to her, pretending to peruse the racks of fresh bread. Riddick wasn't fooled, but was amused to see that the bread vendor wasn't either as she shot the merc venomous looks. As the vendor lost the rest of her patience and began to cuss the merc out for loitering, Riddick saw Phaidor's head turn just slightly in the merc's direction. Apparently, she was aware of his little game as well.

Riddick faded back into the shadows of an alley to watch. Normally he would have pursued the merc, herding him into just such a dark place to meet an unsavory destiny, but Phaidor's words of caution were fresh in his mind, and as the merc had yet to make any dangerous overtures toward himself or his woman, he was content to watch the little drama unfold. For now.

The merc was fleeing away from the now obviously irate vendor, his ears were red and his face was contorted in anger.

"We don't like filthy, loitering mercs around here," the vendor was cursing as she came around the end of her booth hefting a baseball bat with great familiarity, murder on her face.

"Whoa, lady, really. I was just lookin' at the bread. You can bet I won't be buying any now." The merc backed up, hands held up defensively.

"You've been 'just lookin'' at everyone's goods for the past hour, buying nothing. Do any of us look like fools to you, boy? I don't know which of these actual customers you're stalking, but we get your kind around here often enough and all you bring is trouble. Now fuck off before I call security." The other vendors and most of the shoppers in the area were now paying attention to the merc. No few of them were more than a little amused.

Riddick tore his eyes away from the fun and spotted Phaidor using the distraction to move away from the spectacle, bags over her shoulders. She hadn't spotted Riddick, but she kept her eyes on the merc.

Offering platitudes, the merc himself was moving fast in his attempt to escape the aggressive bread vendor and the backup she was threatening to call down. His eyes flashed quickly over the gathered crowd and Riddick knew he'd spotted Phaidor standing back. She seemed to be waiting for him to do just that, for the second he froze in recognition, she ducked between two booths.

_Curious_, Riddick thought and stepped out of his own hiding place, following the merc that was following his Phaidor. He was moving toward Phaidor's vanishing point, but once he got there his face darkened, looking confused and pissed off about it.

As Riddick moved past, keeping his cover by moving in the back of a crowd, he glanced over and saw what had pissed the merc off so badly. The space between the two booths ended in a wall. The merc stepped between, looking to the left and right between the booths, but the vendors manning those spaces had seen his little altercation with the bread seller and were giving him the evil eye.

It was obvious to Riddick that Phaidor had turned on the charm and was either hiding in one of the booths, out of sight, or had moved along behind them.

Frustration plain on his face, the merc turned on his heel and stalked off toward the right, weaving and shoving his way between offended shoppers, making his trail easy to follow.

Riddick hung back, not intent on actively pursuing the merc, until he caught a flash of red hair and chocolate skin. Phaidor. Giving the merc another leading glimpse before turning into an alley, not bothering to glance over her shoulder. She knew she was being followed.

A moment later, Riddick slipped into the alley, truly intent on the merc. He must have turned down one of the alleys branching off from this wider one, so Riddick moved cautiously, adjusting his grocery bags, fingering the shiv in his pocket, eyes scanning first one opening, then the next.

There was a muffled thud and a man yelped then cursed. Riddick moved rapidly, darting down the second opening. Phaidor had the man on the ground. Her bags were in the doorway near her and Riddick guessed she'd been waiting in ambush. She was bent over the merc, her feet beneath her, her hair now tied back from her face. The blade in her hand was the one Riddick had made for her himself. A blade he'd insisted she keep on her at all times. He felt a pleased grin turn up the corners of his mouth as he moved closer, still cautious.

Phaidor's voice was clear and deadly, carrying easily to Riddick's sensitive ears.

"-following us. You do not know who you are fucking with. If you are remotely interested in living, you will stay the hell away from my man and me." The tone was unmistakable, just as the knife held against the merc's jugular spoke plainly of blood and inevitable death.

"Hold on, lady. Your man?" Riddick was grudgingly impressed that the merc's voice was calm, even incredulous as he answered the woman holding a razor sharp blade to his throat. "Do you have any idea who that guy is? Richard Riddick, one of the most feared men in the known universe. And you think you can call him your man. My bet is, if he thought you knew anything about him, he'd kill you."

Riddick almost jumped in then, seeing the merc's slick fingers moving towards the oversized blade strapped to his thigh. He relaxed though as he saw that Phaidor was on to him.

"Ah-ah, merc." The merc made a slightly strangled noise and his fingers moved away from the knife, maybe in response to Phaidor's blade biting a bit deeper than before. "There we go. You do not want me thinking you are a real threat, do you?"

She seemed to consider him for a moment, her voice thoughtful when she spoke again. "I can be reasonable. Riddick just wants to kill you, but that would cause us more trouble than it is worth, I think." The merc made another, almost whimpering, noise in his throat. "However, if I see your face again, I _will _kill you, or Riddick will. It is very simple."

Phaidor stroked her fingertips along the merc's clenched jaw in what may have seemed a tender gesture, but Riddick could see her face and the tension in her form, and knew that her eyes would be like chips of emerald ice in a face as cold as death. Apparently the merc knew it for the dangerous threat it was because he jerked before he could control himself.

"Let's not have any more problems between us, then, hm?" The merc was holding very carefully still. "Good." And then, a look of pure vicious fury crossing her features, Phaidor struck the merc a powerful blow to the temple before lifting herself to her full height, leaving him limp and unconscious on the ground.

"That was fuckin' hot," Riddick said, then he laughed when Phaidor turned toward him calmly, a smile on her face as she stepped away from the merc. "You knew I was here," he accused teasingly.

Phaidor glanced down at the incapacitated merc, then back to him. "Since the bread vendor scene," she admitted, her grin slightly sheepish.

"You little tease." He lowered his bags to the ground and Phaidor loped easily into his arms, turning her face up to his.

"Do you mind?" she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck, offering her lips for a kiss he couldn't resist giving her.

When he finally surfaced for air he let out a boom of laughter. "Mind? We're kissing no more than ten feet from a merc that's been stalking us and that you've threatened and knocked unconscious. No, darlin', I don't mind. I do find it damn funny, though."

"Mhmm," she purred, pulling his lips back to hers. "I am so glad."


	14. Solace Lost

Note: If you're reading, please leave me some feedback. I crave it. I need it. I'm a junkie for your love. Or hate. Please, darling. Do this one little thing for me?

#

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Chapter Thirteen: Solace Lost**

_And so I turned to you, my love_

_For the solace that is there_

_And offer any cherished thing_

_For a slight reprieve_

_I hoped that you would find me here_

_And I could learn to smile again_

_And as a balm for these wounds_

_Take away the sting_

_And as the band did play your body I did cradle_

_I should have known that song would have to end_

--**Fuel **_**Solace**_

#

It was supposed to be me.

#

Their gear was packed, the ship was fueled and ready for departure. All that was left was to stock up on supplies for the jump and to pick up their cargo.

"It is a good thing we leave tomorrow, love," Phaidor was saying as she stared into their empty refrigerator. "We are completely out of food. Oh, no, there is this. How lovely," she griped, holding a bottle of mustard in one hand.

Riddick laughed. His laughter froze when he saw her twist open the top and squirt a glob of the yellow condiment into her mouth, tipping her head back to swallow. A grimace followed the action and Riddick made a gagging noise at her.

Phaidor grinned at him and gave him a mustard oozing grin.

"Wanna go to town, then?" Riddick asked, trying not to laugh again as she quickly washed the mustard down with a gulp of water straight from the tap.

"Yes, please," she answered, still grinning.

Riddick checked his pockets for his comm and wallet.

"At least we know we don't need mustard," Riddick murmured as he watched Phaidor quickly scan their supply list for anything they may have forgotten to add. "Toilet paper," he commented, scanning the list himself. Phaidor added it to the bottom.

"Okay, we're good, then," Riddick said and they headed for town.

They'd turned in their two weeks notice a few days early and had been off the job for two days already, leaving them both stocked with pent up energy. Riddick found himself breaking into a jog and grinned at Phaidor as she jogged beside him, laughing.

"Food!" Phaidor cried happily, drawing the word out and jumping up high in the air then turning so she landed running backwards.

Riddick laughed and nodded as he sprinted past her, flipping her hair up with a flick of his hand.

She chased after him, laughing with simple pleasure. Riddick suddenly swept her up into his arms, spinning her in a slow circle, a boyish grin lit his face and she kissed him lightly, her eyes glowing brightly.

"It's like being a kid again," Riddick said, still twirling slowly. "I never got to be a real kid," he added, knowing she understood.

"Shall we be children together?" she questioned, still smiling, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Riddick nodded. Then he leaned in, saying in a conspiring whisper, "Have we been naughty children together?" His voice dropped to a seductive growl as he said "naughty children".

Phaidor grinned wider. "Oh, yes. Let's be naughty some more when we get home."

"All right. Naughty is the plan for tonight. After dinner." They both laughed and Riddick set Phaidor back on her feet.

"Only another half mile to the market..." he trailed off and Phaidor shot him a sideways glance.

"Race ya!" he called, taking off.

Phaidor stood stunned for a moment then tore after him, calling names at his retreating back. Laughter was his only reply.

They reached the market in record time, rushing down the main street and ignoring the cries of jolted pedestrians as they passed.

Phaidor handed him half the list of supplies and they split up as they usually did.

That's why Riddick spotted him first. The merc was watching him, his interest bold and uncensored. Rage coursed through Riddick, but there was little he could do to the guy in the middle of the city's crowded public market.

He pretended not to see the guy, shifting his gaze to the produce stand before him. _Doesn't he realize who he's fuckin' with?_ Riddick asked himself, feeling the blue eyes locked on the back of his head.

Riddick watched the man out of the corner of his eye, searching the face for familiarity and finding none. If only he could lure the merc away from the crowd... The thought set a plan into motion. It was obvious the guy would follow him wherever he went. Make him follow, then kill him. They were dusting off at first light, so there was no longer any reason to let the pest live.

It was a plan that had worked before and would work again.

So, produce dangling in a bag from his left hand, Riddick headed back the way he'd come, pretending to search for Phaidor who was clear at the other end of the market.

He could feel the merc following close behind, yet far enough away that he could duck out of sight if Riddick turned around suddenly. That was good. It would give Riddick time to position himself in one of the city's many alleys where he could then ambush the man.

Riddick turned left down an alley that ran toward the meat and poultry area of the market. Turning right at the end would lead him straight to where he suspected Phaidor to be, and that was the last thing he wanted.

The sounds of the market grew dim as Riddick began weaving through random alleys, the merc's footsteps trailing behind him despite the man's obvious attempt at stealth.

Just as Riddick stepped into the shadows of a recessed doorway, everything fell apart.

The light tread of a second set of footsteps was approaching from the end opposite that of where Riddick and the merc had come. The footsteps rounded the corner and then came to a startled halt as whoever they belonged to spotted the gauge-wielding merc.

"You!"

The voice rang out, echoing off the claustrophobic walls of the alley, and striking a spear of unparalleled horror into Riddick's soul.

Heart dropping into the pit of his stomach, Riddick immediately dropped his bag and leapt out of the doorway, hoping, _praying _he would be fast enough to throw himself in front of the gauge he knew would be pointing right at his Phaidor. God wasn't listening.

The shot echoed off the brick and concrete walls just as Riddick dove back into the alley, turning his back to the merc, eyes wide and hungry for Phaidor's face. A face drained of blood, full of pain and shock.

"No!" Riddick roared. Adrenaline pumping, Riddick landed in a crouch in front of Phaidor, taking in the sight of her abdomen ripped wide open, a gory mess of blasted flesh. His blade was in his hand with no discernable thought to do so and he spun as Phaidor collapsed to her knees, coming around to face the merc who was still trying to pump another shell into the chamber of his gauge.

The merc fumbled, cursed, stepped back and then turned, making to run. But not fast enough.

Riddick exploded from his crouch with a wordless cry of rage and fear, grabbing the merc by the back of his shirt and driving his blade towards the man's sweet spot. The blade slid in but in his distress Riddick's aim was off and he felt the tip hit bone, shudder, then break.

Not waiting to make sure the job was done, Riddick released the grip and dropped the merc to the ground. Then he was at Phaidor's side, lifting her onto his lap.

"Phaidor," he murmured frantically, brushing the damp hair from her forehead. "Phaidor," he said again and felt relief flood through him when her eyes blinked open, fogged with pain.

"Ri..." she gurgled, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Riddick," she managed finally, coughing.

"Christ," he groaned, pressed his hands against the gaping wound in her stomach, feeling her blood pumping out against his fingers, knowing she was bleeding internally. "Hold on, baby, hold on. I'm gonna take care of you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, weakly reaching a bloody hand up to touch his face. "I don't want to go..."

Panic gripped his heart with an icy hand as she coughed up more blood. "Shit," he groaned, wiping the blood from her mouth with his hand. "C'mon, honey, I'll get you to the hospital and it'll be all right."

Riddick scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he began to jog in the direction she'd come from, but halting, uncertain if the movement was doing more harm than good when she cried out, sobbing.

A street band began to play a slow song, the mournful flute and heart wrenching violin echoing eerily down the alley from somewhere in the market, carried by some trick of the wind to Riddick's ears as he dropped back to his knees, holding Phaidor tightly in his arms.

"I love you, baby. Don't go, don't go. C'mon, just hang on... Please." His voice had taken on a desperate edge and he didn't notice when he began to rock her gently. "Please," he whispered.

"I love you, Riddick," Phaidor whispered, tears of pain and sorrow rolling down her cheeks.

Riddick felt his own tears spilling from his eyes, falling to land on Phaidor's ashy gray face.

"Riddick?" Her voice was thready. "I don't want to go, Riddick." Phaidor grabbed at his shirt and Riddick lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her softly.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," he pleaded against her lips, his voice cracking. "I love you, baby. You can't go. Don't leave me here alone."

"Love you..." she murmured again, and then she stilled, her breath halting in her lungs.

He stared at her for a long time, the band still playing as he cradled her body against his chest. His tear glazed eyes were locked with her blank stare and he knew she wasn't there anymore. The spark that had made her Phaidor was gone, replaced with a chilling emptiness.

The sky was clouding over and Riddick hunched his shoulders as the rain began to fall, sheltering Phaidor's body from the downpour. It came in sheets, accompanied by blinding flashes of lightening and violent, booming the thunder. The wind ripped between the buildings, causing an eerie howling. The street glistened wet and red from Phaidor's blood before it was washed away to run unnoticed along the street gutters.

"Damn you, take me," he whispered, tilting his face towards the sky. "She's gone and now I'm dead."

#

That's how I lost and Johns won. That's how I lost Phaidor, my angel, my soul.

She died in that alley, bleeding in my arms, her last words telling me she loved me. I didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to fall in love with a monster like me. She deserved a man who could give her a home and a family. A place to call her own.

But she did love me, and I loved-- _still _love her.

She was my solace. For her I would have offered any cherished thing.


	15. Epilogue

**Note:** If you're reading, please leave me some feedback. I crave it. I need it. I'm a junkie for your love. Or hate. Please, darling. Do this one little thing for me?

#

Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes

By Dejah Thoris

**Epilogue**

I stayed in that alley for a long time. I stayed until the rain stopped falling and Phaidor had grown cold in my arms. The street band must have been under cover, 'cause they kept playing one mournful song after another. I stayed until they stopped and I was shaking from the cold.

Johns hadn't moved, I thought he was dead. I should have checked. Shoulda checked...

He was Billy Bad Ass. The chains, the gauge, the badge. Now he's alien chow. Fitting end for the hyping bastard. He finally found something worse than me.

After the rain stopped and the band went back to wherever they'd come from, I picked up Phaidor's body and hiked through the empty streets. It was late, the sun was well below the horizon, and no one noticed some guy walking silently through the shadows of the twisting alleyways, even a man carrying a woman's body in his arms.

I took her outside of the city limits and dug a hole beneath a tree. That's where I laid her, and where she lays still. I put a rock over her grave, so I could go back and find her again. There wouldn't be anything left of her now. Time and the elements will have washed away any trace of Phaidor of Lorna. But that was the last place I saw her, and that's where I went when I escaped again, to place flowers on her unmarked grave.

I got grabbed, ended up in Butcher Bay. I found myself thrown in the pits, told I'd never see the light again. That's when I got the shine job, changing the brown eyes Phaidor had told me she loved to the eyes of a predator. It didn't matter. Phaidor would never tell me what she loved again.

After my escape, I kept a low profile. Or so I thought. Johns finally caught up with me, bitter, hyped, and carrying a person grudge for the souvenir I left next to his spine. Almost bled to death, he told me as he gloated and he held a gauge to a child's head, threatening so I would surrender. Billy Boy had a thing for sacrificing children to save his own skin.

He stuffed me in that fucking cryo-locker aboard that doomed ship, cruising some ghost lane. A long time between stops. Long time for something to go wrong. And it went wrong.

The crash, the dark, the death. Another woman dying for me in the rain, her blood dripping to dye the mud red. My soul screaming.

Carolyn's sacrifice woke me up. The humanity Phaidor had given me had been sleeping, silent, my conscience gone.

When Richard B. Riddick decides to let the beast grow quiet, people die.

There's another person looking to me, now. She's still gripping my hand, even in her sleep, the tears dried on her face. The tears dried on mine.

The sun is coming back into view as we clear the atmosphere, pull out of the eclipse shadow. Pull on the goggles and watch. It hurts, but it's worth it. Let it eliminate the darkness. The emergency beacon is sounding and now I can hear an answering call. We're going to be picked up.

Now what? Keep going? Keep running? No Johns, anymore. A new life in a new place. A new beginning. Heaven is still frozen, Hell is still closed. Am I ready? It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. I have to move forward, my memories firmly intact.

Let it begin. I can take it.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you for reading this last installment of Heaven Freezes, Hell Closes. I hope you'll take the time to leave me some feedback. I'd very much appreciate hearing from you.


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